Gold Stick Heels
by pigeons
Summary: And now he was here, sitting in an empty bathroom, listening to bad muffled music and his own crying. Was this normal highschool life? He supposed so. GerIta Highschool AU. T for language and themes. Minor pairings will include SuFin, EstLat, LietPol and more.
1. Chapter 1

Uh. Hello, my name is pigeon. This is my first time writing a fanfiction in nearly three years, and my first time publishing one ever. This is actually a lot of firsts for me, it's my first contribution to the Hetalia fandom, it's the first multi-chapter fanfic I've ever done. Please be easy on me with the reviews? I'm new here.

I intend to continue this fanfic, but I really have a tendancy to abandon my work, and I'm really sorry for that. I have a few chapters plotted out, and chapter 2 is almost done, but I may need some reader-direction at one point or another.

I also might be writing in some smut or self harm, so rating may switch to M sooner or later. Thanks for reading.

* * *

A muffled sound echoed against the dirty white tiles in the bathroom. If you were to be in the room, it would only sound like another vibration of the bass through the wall. But it wasn't. There was a quiet sound accompanying the music, of someone crying. The music was so loud- so loud, and no matter where you went you could still hear it vibrating in your ears.

Feliciano Vargas, a junior in highschool. He was hunched against the wall, in the handicap stall, the one with the broken light over it. The words 'DRAKE LOVES SUZANNE' were etched into the fresh tan paint that was meant to cover up the last scrawls of bathroom graffiti. The young man looked up at the ceiling, tears dripping down his cheeks and dribbling off his chin. He was wearing a black suit with a blue tie, and a white shirt with cocoa-cola spilled down the front.  
He cursed, audibly, and rubbed the tears off his face. The audacity of those people. The pure maliciousness he'd seen in their eyes as they had cornered him. Fuck. Just stop crying. Stop.

However, his breaths came no more steadily, and his tears came no less frequently. He'd been having a wonderful time today, the day of the Homecoming Dance, when everyone in the new school year shows off their relationships, their body, their popularity. He'd always been good at beguiling women, so he'd had no problem talking to one. A girl named... fuck, what was her name? Abbey? Ally? Addison...? No, he couldn't remember. She was beautiful, in a superficial way. She'd had too much mascara on, so her eyes looked dark and intense, and every high-school girl wants that, huh. He was drawn to her, in a mess of hormones, and he'd almost been shocked when she said yes to his invitation. They had little conversation between then and the dance, which he found kind of sad, and funny, in a sad way. She'd came to pick him up in a generally unimpressive car, since he didn't have a car himself, and she'd been wearing a strapless orange party dress with gold stick-heels that made his feet hurt looking at them. Clutching her seemingly meaningless be-dazzled handbag, they'd set off. She drove them to a restaraunt. They had meaningless conversation, and he felt sick. It's all so superficial, isn't it? He paid for both of their meals out of politeness. They'd arrived at the highschool, and the music had already started. The entire building shook just a little, and his head hurt already.

He took the girl's coat and hung it up on the coat racks sitting in the hallway, in front of the gym, and they went in together. It seemed they were almost waiting for him, weren't they? The group of young men, the five of them. Alfred had poked him hard in the stomach and said 'So what are you doing here, fag?' He'd curled in on himself where Alfred had touched him. Ivan hit the back of his head with the side of his hand. 'Seems the little guy's on a date!' The group of them had laughed. That sound repeated in Feliciano's mind as he shook on the bathroom floor, and he whimpered between his shaky sobs. Yao had chuckled along with them. 'With this pretty girl? What a joke!' He spilled his coke down the front of Feliciano's shirt. Francis had slung an arm around Feliciano's date, and he saw her gold stick-heels turn with a slight hesitance away from him, as she tried not to smirk at his expense. The girl walked away with the five men, one of which (Alfred, of course it was Alfred) had turned to flip him off.

And now he was here, sitting in an empty bathroom, listening to muffled club music and his own crying. Was this normal highschool life? He supposed so.

* * *

Ludwig Beilschmidt wondered why he was even there. Was there a reason? He didn't think so. The music was so loud. And so BAD. It was hot in there. He watched girls grind against their boyfriends in the darkness of the room, the scent of sweat and purfume making a pungent odor that could only be described with the word highschool.

There was a multi-colored strobe light in one corner, that threw discs of bright color around the room in an attempt to theme the party like a rave. It was a little sad, because this didn't feel anything like a rave at all. This felt like a sweaty highschool homecoming dance, and Ludwig didn't want to be there.  
He came only because he felt like he needed to. Like it was a part of highschool life, and if he didn't go, he would be missing out on something. Missing out on what? He didn't know. This wasn't anything to look forward to for him, as he was simply sitting on the bleachers at the edge of the gym. He didn't have a date, because he felt like he didn't need one. Who the fuck needs a date?

Fed up with watching the bump-and-grind 'dancing', the blonde stood up. He turned on his heel, making a squeak with his dress shoes on the polished gym floor. On his way out, he bumped into a girl in an orange party dress. She was teetering on her gold stick-heels and laughing hysterically with several boys. Ludwig knew them, he knew their names, and they knew his, but he tried to avoid them, at least. It was nasty buisness dealing with them.  
He put his hands on the girl's shoulders and steadied her before apologizing and leaving the gym. He could still hear the bass of the terrible rap song muffled through the wall, and it echoed strangely through the huge main hallway. He stopped at the refreshment table and got a drink of water, glad to be out of the dark, hot gym. He decided to head to the bathroom and wash the sweat from his face, and as he stepped in the white-tiled room, he continued to hear the booming music. No... something else, something quieter. From the corner, someone was... crying?

He walked slowly to the door and knocked softly with the back of his hand. "Uh... are you alright?"

A choked sob answered him. "Leave, go away. It's not your problem."

He swallowed. "Let me in, it doesn't have to be my problem."

"N-no. Go away," the strangled voice replied.

"Let me in."

He heard the person stand up with a clack of dress shoes against white tile. A click of the latch and the tan stall door was opening, hanging from one hinge to reveal short boy with reddish brown hair and swollen eyes. Tears ran down his tired-looking face and he clutched the door to keep himself upright. He sat back down on the floor and buried his face in his knees. Ludwig stepped inside, closing the stall door but not locking it. He sat down on the other side of the handicap stall, leaning against the etching of 'DRAKE LOVES SUZANNE' in the tan paint. He looked across at the small kid who shook a little as he breathed. "What is your name?" Ludwig asked him.

"F-feliciano." The boy stuttered out, still attempting to control his breaths.

"That's a weird name." he said anxiously. He noticed Feliciano's shoulders tightening a bit. "Eeh... I'm Ludwig."

"Your name is s-strange too." Feliciano rebuked.

"I guess so." A tense silence built between the two for a few seconds, then Ludwig sighed. "Are you alright, Feliciano?"

"Yes."

"That's a lie."

"I know."

"Would you tell me what happened?" Ludwig held his breath.

Feliciano tried to chuckle, but it came out as a half-sob. "It was... my date. She had gold-stick heels, but I don't remember her name. Then those guys. Y-you know, Alfred and Ivan and those guys. They called me a fag. The took my date, a-and they spilled coke on me, an-nd-" He couldn't go on, he just hugged his knees tight to his chest. He cried out in anguish.

Ludwig boiled with anger. He knew that the group was known for bullying, but it filled him with disgust. They were juniors in highschool, for christ's sake. They should stop asking like seventh-grade girls for a change and grow the fuck up. Feliciano was a crying mess in front of him, and they were out there partying with his date in the darkness of the foul-smelling mock-rave party in the gym. The bass vibrated through the wall behind Feliciano.

"What about you?" Feliciano said, a little louder than they were speaking before. "Why are you here? Where are your friends? Go see them, leave me alone."

The blonde was taken aback, still more concerned for Feliciano than himself. "I-I came here alone. I don't... really have friends here, at least."

Feliciano looked up at him through watery hazel eyes. "Oh. That's t-too bad then." He pulled at the cuffs of his jacket.

"Maybe you could be my friend, then?" Ludwig couldn't even believe himself. It sounded so fucking cheezy. Whatever, maybe with it being so cheezy Feliciano would at least laugh at his failed attempt to socialize. He'd never been too good with words.

"Y-yeah. Let's be... f-friends." A weak smile showed through his tears.

Ludwig stood up. He took a few steps over to Feliciano, and grabbed his shoulder, helping him to stand up. "Come on. Do you want a ride home?"  
Feliciano looked relieved. "Yeah. I'd appreciate it."

Ludwig opened the stall door and the two of them left the bathroom. He kept his eyes out for any of those guys or the girl in the gold stick-heels, but they  
(thankfully) didn't come across anyone malicious on their way out of the school. They walked into the dark parking lot, only seeing one couple that seemed to be getting a little more intimate than just making out, leaning against a baby-blue car that reflected the yellow light from the windows in the highschool. They reached Ludwig's small gray car, Feliciano climbing into the passenger's seat as Ludwig started the engine. Ludwig asked Feliciano where he lives, and Feliciano told him the neighborhood, one Ludwig was familiar with.

Ludwig pulled out of the parking lot quickly, since there was very little traffic around the school. Homecoming was less than half-way over. Ludwig didn't mind that though, since it was a boring event for him anyways. Feliciano was looking out the window back towards the school. A few droplets of rain started to hit the windshield. "Do you have a cell-phone?" He asked Feliciano, hoping to get the boy's number.

"Oh, yeah. I do. Do you want me to add my number in your phone?" Ludwig nodded, reaching in his pocket and handing Feliciano his phone. It wasn't anything fancy, just a silver slide phone with a small screen. He sometimes wished he had a smartphone, but he realised that he would rarely use it, anyways, so he was happy with his current phone. Feliciano slid the screen up and quickly typed his name and number into the contacts. "Ve~ There you go!"

Feliciano seemed to have calmed down a lot more since they had left the school, smiling at Ludwig from the seat beside him. His hazel eyes seemed softer, even though they were still puffy from his crying earlier.

Ludwig pulled into the neighborhood and asked Feliciano which house, and he pointed it out quickly. The blonde pulled into the driveway and pressed the brakes, looking over at the other. "Are you going to be okay?" He asked the smaller boy.

"Yes. Thank you, Ludwig. Thank you so much." Feliciano smiled at him, then opened the door and stepped out of the car.

Ludwig wouldn't text him until Sunday, two days later, and learn that that wasn't entirely true.

* * *

Well... was that ok? Please review. I'd love to hear from you all about this, and whether I've still got it when it comes to writing fanfictions.

Thank you all again. Chapter 2 should be up in a matter of a few days~


	2. Chapter 2

Ah. I haven't even read this over. I'm just tired, and tired of looking at this. Hopefully you'll like this, since I drew it out way too much and got half as much plot done in this chapter as I originally intended anyways... Remember to review! Please be kind, this is still my first story.

Also, just. To say something. The first chapter was based on my own homecoming experience last year. So. A lot of this story may reflect my life.

* * *

He didn't want to seem over-excited, so he wanted to wait. But he also didn't want to seem like he didn't care at all, which couldn't be any less true. Ludwig was completely captivated by the boy he met at the homecoming dance. He thought about it for a while, and decided not tcontact him until sunday, homecoming being on friday of course. His phone felt heavy in his pocket as he waited all of saturday, trying to pass the time doing homework and studying and watching some TV. When the soccer game came on, he found himself unable to concentrate as his eyes kept flicking to his grey phone across the room. When it was finally dark out (which was shockingly early nowadays; only 6:00 and the sun was setting), Ludwig stood from the couch and closed the curtains and shutters in the windows.

He climbed into his bed after taking a quick shower. Steam had rolled out of the door when he'd opened it into the hallway, the scalding hot water heating the air until it was uncomfortably hot in the room. His damp bangs clung to his forehead, and he hadn't brushed his hair back.

Blue eyes stared at the ceiling. He hadn't done anything all day. His busy parents had been at work, and he'd wasted the day away sitting on the couch debating whether or not to text his newfound friend. He suddenly snatched his phone up off the nightstand, regretting it. Why hadn't he texted Feliciano? God, he was an idiot. He'd waited too long, Feliciano had probably already forgotten who he even was- _'Hey. This is Ludwig, the guy you met at the homeco-_' He stopped himself mid-text and erased the message without sending it. Ugh. That had sounded even dumber. How does somebody even talk to their friends? How do you text them without sounding like a dumb fool?

He somehow managed to get to sleep despite being a little angry with himself over it. He slept dreamlessly until morning, when he woke up disoriented and confused. Light streamed in his window since he'd left the slats of the blinds open, so when the sun rose it would wake him up. He lazily walked into the kitchen (his parents were still asleep from a long night of working) and poured himself a bowl of cereal. It looked to be about 11:00 in the morning, but sometimes the clock on the stove was wrong so he learned not to trust it completely. Ludwig relaxed around the house for a while, until about 1:00 when he went upstairs to change into some actual pants. Sometimes wearing pajama pants around all day made you feel like you didn't do anything useful, even if you did. Ludwig wanted to get a head start on studying for a math test he had that monday, so he felt like he needed to get even partially dressed to make himself feel better.

As the blonde slicked back his hair and looked at himself in the mirror, he suddenly remembered last night. Ugh, he'd been an idiot. At least he hadn't sent that message. Sending a text at 11 PM was almost worse than sending it 3 hours after he'd met the guy.

So he walked over and sat on his bed, picking up the phone. He typed, _'Hello. This is Ludwig'_

Yeah, short and sweet. It just got the message across, yeah. He didn't need anything else. That was his style, wasn't it? Short and sweet, huh.

He sent the message.

Begin, the anxiety.

God, what if he sees it and doesn't reply? How will he know? What if he gets it, and ignores it? Does he send another one? What if he ignores that one too? Maybe there was a faulty connection, and the message really didn't send. What if Feliciano gave him the wrong number? Oh, god. Oh oh oh oh god.  
His phone vibrated on the bed next to him and he almost jumped out of his skin.

_'oh! hey ludwig its good to hear from you'_ The text didn't have flawless spelling and grammar, what what the heck. What did he expect. Ludwig simply texted like that because he always had; he used proper capitalization when he could as well.

Oh damn. What did he reply next...? It's the dreaded 'hey' 'hey' conversation, where there's no general subject it's just the two of you saying HEY and it just gets really old after the first two texts oh goodness how does he fix this, how does one make friends like this-

_'Good to hear from you too. Are you doing alright?'_ He figured it would be best to cut to the chase. He waited another painful minute and a half, before his phone vibrated again.

_'yes. i went home and ate good pasta to cheer up. very ggood!_' Ludwig didn't think the double-g's were supposed to be there, but whatever. At least Feliciano was doing better. (He would also soon find out that pasta is a re-occurring thing in Feliciano's life, it would almost always make him feel better.)

_'That's good. I'm glad you're better.'_

_'ve~ thank you we should sit together at lunch!'_

Ludwig smiled at this. He wanted to sit together with him... Another friendship thing._ 'Yeah, seems like a really good idea.'_

* * *

On monday, Ludwig was already high strung about his math test, and about sitting with Feliciano, so altogether he wasn't in a very pleasant mood. So when he stood in the lunchroom holding a white plastic tray, looking around for his new auburn-haired friend, a scowl showed on his face. Everyone had mostly sat down, except for a few people standing around some tables talking to their friends and a couple others who were also just getting out of the lunch line. He quickly scanned each table for a glimpse of Feliciano, finally spotting him standing on the other side of the huge room with a brown paper bag in his hands. Ludwig let his facial muscles relax, and he smiled a little as he walked over to him. He ended up meeting him halfway, and they faced each other in the center of the lunchroom. "Hey Ludwig!" Feliciano smiled, and his smiling face caught Ludwig off guard. He was actually pretty good-looking for a guy, when his face wasn't red and puffed up from crying. His reddish-brown hair was slightly curly, and he smiled so wide his eyes squinted. His skin was slightly tanned even after the summer months were gone.

"H-hello." Ludwig responded curtly. "We should find a place to sit." Holding his tray with both hands, he glanced around the lunchroom and spied a half-empty table on the side of the room against the wall. He pointed it out to Feliciano and they walked over. The table was cold as it brushed Ludwig's knuckles. He'd always hated lunchroom tables. They seemed so disgusting once you thought about all the people who touched them and all the things they were used for. He looked up from his food and noticed Feliciano had turned around, and was looking out into the center of the lunchroom again at a black-haired kid (an asian kid, ludwig confirmed as he turned around) holding a styrofoam lunchtray. He looked out-of-place, and kept shifting around, first standing by the garbage can, then turning and scanning the tables, presumably for an empty spot. Ludwig watched as Feliciano near leaped up and skipped over to the boy, grabbing his arm and turning the boy toward him. The poor sap nearly jumped out of his skin and looked confused when Feliciano spoke to him, but the auburn-haired boy simply clutched the sleeve of his white dress-shirt and lead him over to where he and Ludwig had sat down. The kid looked bewildered and confused, still not saying anything as his dark brown eyes analyzed Ludwig's pale features.

"Ah. I. T-thank you." He spoke with a heavy accent in a calm tone.

"Ve~ You looked lost over there, so you should sit with us!" Feliciano smiled widely at him. "What's your name?"

"My... name is Honda. Kiku. Kiku Honda." Ludwig noticed him hesitating before he spoke. He was probably still learning english.

"Ooh, cool! My name is Feliciano, and this is Ludwig! We just became friends. You should sit with us and be our friend, too, Kiku!"

He could almost see the gears turning in Kiku's head, processing Feliciano's flurry of speech far too slowly. Ludwig smiled a little and asked, "What country do you come from, Kiku?"

"Ah... I trasferred from Japan. English is my new language so please forgive me."

Ludwig shook his head a bit. "Nah, it's alright! It must be hard moving to such a different place, I don't want to make it harder for you." The three of them talked amongst themselves throughout the rest of the lunch, figuring out more about Kiku. How he transferred here, what his old home was like, answering any questions he had about things in america. They tried their best to help him with his english, since he used a few words incorrectly. When the rest of the kids in the lunchroom started to get up, the trio stood and looked at each other. Ludwig spoke; "Uh, do you want to sit together again tomorrow?"

Both Feliciano and Kiku nodded. "Sure, Ludwig~ Its nice to have someone to sit with at lunch now!" Ludwig wondered where he'd been sitting before.

"Ah. Yes, that would be nice." Kiku bowed his head slightly. "I'm sorry, I must be to my next class now." The two others said their farewells and Kiku left them quickly, walking briskly in the direction of his locker.

"So, I was thinking," Feliciano said, "Does Ludwig want to come to my house tomorrow after school?" Ludwig was a little taken aback. He had just met this boy a few days prior, and now he was invited to his house? He hadn't expected it, but he hadn't really expected anything at all. Friendship was quite a foreign concept to him, as he'd always preferred reading and independant activities to social endeavors. He'd liked sports for a long time, and he'd played soccer in elementary and football in middle school, but now he only used the school's weight room on wednesdays before class, and jogged occasionally. Nothing social involved, anymore.

"Uh. Sure. Do you take the bus?"

"Yeah, Bus T." The bus system at their school was labeled with letters. It was a huge highschool, so there were sometimes even two buses that took the same route.

"Alright. Let's meet on the bus, then. After school tomorrow..." Ludwig was excited. He got to go somewhere, and spend time with this new and interesting person... god, he felt like a loser. He was so worked up about this in the first place, it's probably an everyday thing for someone like Feliciano.  
The two of them said their farewells, Feliciano promising to text Ludwig as soon as possible. Ludwig hurried to his next class, which was math. He'd studied for this test, but he found that he wasn't really ready for it. He wasn't really ready for anything at all.

* * *

Thanks for reading! The next chapter will hopefully include Lovino.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello! Thanks for following the story this far. I'm trying to write as fast as I can, because I love to see your lovely reviews!

This part of the story may begin to become a little triggering to some, so be warned!

* * *

"Ludwig! Ludwiiiiiiiiig!" Feliciano called from around the middle bus as the blonde mounted the steps inside the vehicle. He heard the puff of air as the door swung shut behind him and the engine of the bus started. He shouldered his army-green backpack and walked down the center aisle, toward Feliciano.

It was strange, he'd expected to see him waiting alone, but beside him was another boy. This new figure was looking out the window, back at the school as the bus began to move and pull out of the parking lot. Ludwig sat down in the seat in front of them both. "Hello Feliciano," Ludwig began, only to see the other boy's head whip around to glare at him.

He had darker brown hair than Feli, and sharper, sterner features. "Who the fuck are you?" He offered. Ludwig was taken aback.

"Ehh, Lovino! Why are you always so mean to my friends?" Feliciano yelled. "Sorry Ludwig, this is my twin brother, Lovino!"

_ Twin... Brother?_ Ludwig did a double take. Now that he looked closer, they did look very much alike, both in body structure and their faces. Lovino huffed, pulling up the neckline of his black coat. "Whatever." He rolled his eyes and went back to looking out the window.

"I didn't know you had a brother." Ludwig offered, not quite sure what to say. The bus had now pulled onto the road and gained some speed, the hum of the engine and hiss of the suspension accompanied their conversation. Feliciano just smiled.

"I guess I forgot to tell you then, ahaha. We live together with our Grandpa Roma. It's nice, I get to eat all the pasta I want~" Ludwig smiled. This was yet another mention of the food, something Feliciano obviously cared about a lot.

Only an instant later did Feliciano cry out, and Ludwig's eyes snapped into focus once again. "What was that?"

Feliciano bent down and picked up a wad of paper, looking over his shoulder before frowning and turning back to Ludwig. "This paper. Just hit me in the head. Francis threw it." He buried his face in his hands, elbows resting on his lap. Ludwig could see the blonde boy in the back of the bus, sitting with Arthur, laughing at the red-head. He had a little stubble on his chin that he seemed to be proud of, like it made him more of a man than everyone else. He was laughing pretty hard, half-leaning on Arthur as the bus rumbled beneath them.

Ludwig stood up, moving toward Francis. He stopped and leaned on the seat in front of the two of them, his hand clenching around the seat-back. "What the fuck was that?" Ludwig said, anger flashing in his eyes. The muscular teenager stood taller, trying his best to be intimidating.

"I-I-I ehh. Um." Francis stuttered. He laughed nervously, annoyingly. "I-It was nothing! Aahahaha, j-just a joke! I promise!" He leaned into the window, away from Ludwig and a now-smirking Arthur.

"Stop that. Feliciano doesn't need your shit, Francis, god dammit." With that, he turned on the heel of his boot and returned to his seat in front of a shocked Feliciano.

"W-wow. Thanks, Ludwig." Feliciano strangled out.

"Eeh, whatever. This bastard didn't do shit. You could've done that yourself, Feli." Lovino turned his head toward the two of them, jeering.

Ludwig gave him a hard stare. "Would you stop swearing at me? I didn't even do anything to you." Lovino just ran a hand through his dark wavy hair and shrugged.

"I don't know, you seem like the type to be a complete bastard toward my brother."

"I've done nothing bad to him at all! I even gave him a ride home from the dance last Friday."

"You _what_?"

Feliciano cut in. "Ahahahaha, about that Lovino-"

"You told me your date drove you home! Did something happen? Jesus fuck, Feli. What the fuck is wrong with you."

Feliciano's face scrunched up for a second, and then he looked up. "We're here. Let's get off." He said, standing up and moving into the aisle as the bus rolled to a stop. He, Lovino and Ludwig stood up and exited the bus, thanking the driver with a wave of his hand. They stepped onto the curb, where yellowed, dying grass was still damp from the rainy weekend. The three of them walked in silence for a few minutes, Lovino walking ahead of Ludwig and Feli as they moved down the shaded street toward the twins' small house.

They approached the building on the side of the street, since there were no sidewalks, and Ludwig got a good look at the house. It didn't look to be in terrible condition, but it wasn't anything fancy either. It was mostly made of brown brick, with dark shingles and a small chimney on the roof. Some white siding and fake shutters had the paint peeling off a bit, and one of the windows on the second floor had a bent frame, but other than that, it looked like a home. Two cars sat in the cracked concrete driveway; a small reddish-purple car that had a few dents in the side, and a black pickup truck. Ludwig assumed one was their grandfather's, since Feli didn't own a car and the other must have been Lovino's.

They walked around to the back of the house, Lovino reaching the door first and pulling out a set of keys. They jingled a bit, and he found the right one, turning it in the lock. Ludwig caught sight of a keychain shaped like a tomato.

Lovino had to push his weight against the door to get it to open, stepping inside and throwing his backpack down on a table, which Ludwig assumed was the kitchen table. Dirty linoleum floors greeted him in the outdated kitchen, but the room looked well-used and Ludwig saw herbs and peppers drying on a string hanging from one of the cabinets. Feliciano set down his blue backpack on the table as well, the blonde following suit.

Lovino walked immediately out of the room, hopping up the stairs, and a creak was heard through the entire house.

"So, what do you want to do?" Feliciano asked.

Huh. That was like asking a rock to do a backflip. He had no idea what to do, since all his hobbies were single-person activities. "I-I don't know."

"Hmm~ How about we watch a movie?" Feliciano seemed to sense his uncomfortableness.

"Ah. Sure." Ludwig was somewhat relieved. Feliciano walked out of the kitchen in the same direction Lovino had gone, but took a left turn before he reached the narrow wooden staircase. They came into a room with cream-colored walls and a floral-patterned sofa. The carpet was a pepto-bismol pink color, and had a few stains on it. Feliciano walked over to a shelf full of DVDs, while Ludwig just sat down on the couch. There was an entertainment center with a box-shaped television surrounded by trinkets behind glass panels.

"How about we watch 'The Matrix'? It's a good movie, huh?" Feliciano asked him, turning around with a DVD box in hand.

"Oh, sure. That sounds good." In all truth, Ludwig had never seen the movie, but he didn't care.

Feliciano put the movie in the DVD player and sat down in front of the couch on the floor, next to a spot where the carpet bulged up.

"Has Ludwig ever seen this movie before?" Feliciano asked.

"N-no, I haven't. I've heard about it, though. I don't watch a lot of movies."

Feliciano smiled. "Oh, that's alright! I like to watch action movies, and comedy movies, and especially romance movies!"

"Romance movies, huh? I've never watched any." Ludwig responded. "It's kind of not my thing. I read a romance novel once, though."

"Ah. I don't do a lot of reading, I like music more."

"Oh really?"

The two of them started to talk about their favorite music, and movies, and such things as that. Ludwig had already started to get the idea that Feliciano was incredibly lazy, but now his suspicions were confirmed while they lazily spoke about their interests. Feli mentioned he loved to sleep, and loved to cook and eat good food. _What a glutton_, Ludwig thought to himself.

By now the movie was forgotten, playing quietly in the background of their conversation. He felt comfortable in the room, its warm cream walls making it seem like a home after all. They talked until the movie was well over, leaving them to stare out and watch dust swim through the sunlight. After a while, the conversation turned to Feliciano's past.

"Grandpa Roma used to take me down the street to that restaurant, you know, the Italian place, with the tomato painted on the bricks outside. But recently he's been tired, so he just sleeps all the time, then goes to work and comes home and sleeps more. I've had to make dinner for Lovi and me a lot, too, so I know a lot of good recipes, for pasta, and pizza!" He was trying to keep it upbeat, Ludwig could see that.

"Feliciano." Ludwig said, swallowing.

"Yes?"

"Where are your parents?"

Feliciano looked suddenly interested in what was happening outside the window, averting Ludwig's gaze behind him and staring out the muntin-crossed glass panes. They heard the sound of a bird calling outside, a rare sound for so late in the fall. It would start snowing soon.

"There… was a car accident, ve?" Feliciano's voice dried up. "A bad one, when we were kids."

Ludwig suddenly regretted asking. This was none of his business, what was he doing? "O-oh. I see."

"So now we're with Grandpa Roma, me and Lovino." His eyes narrowed in thought. Ludwig thought he might just start crying.

Suddenly, a door slammed upstairs. The narrow staircase creaked again, and Lovino descended into view. He turned to go to the kitchen, but stopped for a split second long enough to notice the somber mood in the room. "What the fuck is going on in here?" He asked gruffly.

"Ah, Lovino. Um, h-he asked about our paren-"

"Don't you fucking _dare_ answer him. It's none of his buisness!" Anger flashed in Lovino's eyes and he walked into the room, standing in front of Feliciano where he sat on the floor uncomfortably. Ludwig shifted on the couch beside them.

"Lovi! I can do whatever I want, Ludwig is my frien-"

This time Feliciano was cut off as Lovino grabbed him by the front of his shirt, hauling him off the ground as the reddish-brown haired boy tried to pry Lovino's hands off of him. Ludwig stood up, with the full intention of breaking the brothers apart.

"Get the fuck out, you bastard!" Lovi shouted, turning his head toward the blonde. Ludwig shot a panicked look at Feliciano, who stopped struggling for a second.

"J-just go, Ludwig."

Ludwig found himself speechless. What was he doing? His feet were glued to the floor for an instant, eyes wide. Lovino then let go of Feliciano and stepped toward him.

"Get out, _get out of here!_" Lovino shouted at the top of his lungs, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

And in that instant, Ludwig turned and dashed to the kitchen. Quickly shouldering his green backpack, he threw open the door to the sound of the twins shouting at each other. He bolted from the house, running down the street under the huge dying trees.

* * *

Whew! That was tough to write. I hope you all liked it! Next chapter may include some side pairings, I hope that's ok!

Please review!


	4. Chapter 4

So, taking a little break from what's going on with Ludwig and Feli... I've planned some stuff for other couples. This is a SuFin chapter I've been really excited about getting down. Each side-pairing will most likely be a one-shot type thing every three or four chapters in the main story. I'm probably gonna write some EstLat, some LietPol, and maybe even some RusCan (hehehe my unpopular OTP). Please let me know if you wanna see some other things like this, or even another chapter of SuFin.

**Also, (I apologise for not putting this in earlier) there will be _heavy_ instances of bullying in this story. Sorry if I triggered you before!**

Thanks for reading, and please review!

* * *

Tino Väinämöinen was in a pretty good mood that Wednesday morning as he walked into the school building out of the cold. He'd walked all the way there from his house, half a mile away. It was about 40 degrees outside, though it was a cold that he knew he could handle. He was wearing his blue and white varsity jacket with a fur-lined coat underneath, a white beanie on his head.

He'd gotten the letter patch on his jacket for playing ice hockey in freshman and sophomore years. He truly did love the winter, the snow outside, as well as sports like hockey. It seemed more appealing to him than beaches in the summer, even. He especially loved Christmas, and the time around it. He always had. His Christmases as a child had been filled with wonder, like every child's should have been, and that happiness he got around the holiday had never stopped coming. It was only November, only just starting to get colder and deeper into the fall, and his head started buzzing with excitement about the snow that was sure to come.

He walked toward his locker, stopping in front of the long rows of metal doors. His locker was relatively close to the main enterance, so it didn't take him long to reach it. Hanging up his jacket and coat on the thick wire hooks in the back, he removed his books from his bag and slumped it on the floor of the locker.

As he removed his hat, he felt a strong hand on his shoulder, and he turned around to face a familiar tall figure; his best friend, and boyfriend, Berwald Oxenstierna. "Berwald!"

Berwald hadn't been to his locker yet, and was standing in the otherwise empty hallway with his black backpack and his long, dark coat. His short hair looked like it hadn't been brushed that morning, but Tino figured that was an easy fix. Berwald didn't smile, but his expression tightened, and Tino just smiled wider. He shut his locker and grabbed Berwald's arm with one hand, holding his books with the other. "Come on, let's go put your stuff away."

As they walked through the building towards Berwald's locker, buses started to arrive from picking up sleepy high-schoolers from their respective bus stops. Tino just held the taller boy's arm as the halls started to stir with life. They reached the locker and Berwald dialed the combination, placing his coat and bag inside. "Have you got what you need for geometry?" Tino tried him. Berwald nodded, barely gesturing to the book in his hands. "Then let's go!"

They arrived in the class, and it passed by uneventfully, the two of them occasionally passing notes or Tino leaning over to help Berwald with a problem. In fact, until lunch, they actually had a pretty good day.

See, Berwald had something called selective mutism. It ties a bit into social anxiety, where he is withdrawn and shy, with trouble expressing himself. He fully has the capability to speak, but he will not talk to anyone except Tino.

It's a bit of a mystery why it was Tino he chose to trust in the first place, but Tino's alright with it. He understands that he's the only one Berwald can trust, so he goes through quite a bit of trouble in his daily life in order to make sure Berwald is happy. He makes sure the tall blonde takes his anxiety medication, he walks around the school with him, he even spoke to their class counselor about it to make sure he and Berwald were in all the same classes. He'd dealt with this since freshman year.

When the bell rang for them to be released for lunch period, the two of them set off at a lazy walk down to the cafeteria. Tino rambled on about different subjects as they walked, and Berwald made tiny reactions to spur him on in his near-one-sided conversation.

They reached the door to the huge, crowded room, and stepped inside, getting a few upward glances from the 'popular' table (heh, they must've sounded like middle schoolers) and more than one snicker could be heard as Berwald leaned down to faintly mumble something in Tino's ear. "L'ts g't in l'ne." Tino nodded vigorously, taking Berwald's arm again as the two of them strolled to the back of the lunch line.

Berwald could hear them whispering, no doubt, and Tino wished he'd just forget about it. People were always going to spread rumors and such (even if they were true). They approached the lunch lady and Tino asked for a slice of pizza for him, and one for Berwald. Both of them held out their cheap Styrofoam trays as the lunch lady plopped some 'fresh' dominoes' onto the smooth white surface.

Tino paid for both of them and they stepped out of the lunch line, to go and sit where they usually do; along the wall, near the soda machine. It was out of the way, and near enough to the edge of the crowd that the two of them could easily walk out of the lunchroom if Berwald started getting uncomfortable or panicking. They sat down on either side of the table, facing each other, Tino's back to the door.

At this point, Tino started rambling about a movie he'd seen last night, and Berwald listened with slight interest. Tino had been watching an action movie, and he complained about how bad the CGI was. Berwald took a bite of his pizza, glancing over to the door for a moment.

A group of boys was coming into the lunchroom, laughing and horsing around. They weren't anyone either of them knew, but rumors spread fast in highschool, so they knew who the pair was. In fact, the entire school had already guessed at their 'secret relationship'. They were stared at in the hallways, and the whispering never stopped, even when they were in earshot.

One of the boys looked over to them and pointed them out to his friend. They laughed, saying something Berwald couldn't hear. The friend laughed, saying something back. The group of them stood casually by the entrance of the lunchroom.

Suddenly, a black-haired boy walked towards them, coming up behind Tino. He put his hand on the back of Tino's head and shoved. Tino's body jerked, turning slightly to the left, hands reaching up to swat away the hand that was already retracting. The boys by the door howled with laughter, and Tino whipped around with a look of disbelief. "Ha! Having fun with your boyfriend, faggot?" The black haired boy said.

Berwald suddenly felt a wave of anger flash through him. Placing his hands on the table, he stood up quickly, glaring hard at the kid. He pushed his chair back and moved around the table, grabbing the kid's jacket sleeve before he could even react. He pulled his arm back and, making sure his thumb was curled around the bottom of his fist, collided his knuckles with the boy's jawbone. The kid's head twisted around, and Berwald heard a crack as the bones in his neck popped.

The boy whipped back around, grabbing at Berwald's collar and yelling profanities. By now kids were standing up to watch the scuffle, forming a vague circle around them as the kid flung a disorganized punch at Berwald's shoulder. The tall blonde was pushed backwards, stumbling for a step or two. He now realized that there was a crowd forming around him.

The kid moved to his left, coming up and punching him again, this time dead on in the nose. Pain shot through his face, his glasses being knocked askew. Berwald roughly grabbed the kid's shoulders and shoved him away, watching as he tripped and fell onto the ground.

"Berwald!" He could hear Tino cry out behind him now in a desperate voice, and he turned his head toward his boyfriend. Tino's eyes were watering and his expression was panicked, clutching the back of the chair tightly. Berwald looked back to where the kid was sitting on the ground, holding his jaw where Berwald had punched him.

Moments later, school officials and the principal were rushing over to break up the crowd. One of them grabbed the boy with the black hair, and the principal pulled Berwald by his wrist toward the office. The crowd was starting to die down, people talking loudly and asking those who could see what happened. Tino followed Berwald and the principal quickly, ducking into the office door before it even closed. Another school official took the black-haired boy by the shoulder and into another door in the office, while Berwald was taken into the principal's office. Tino moved quickly inside. The principal opened his mouth to speak, but Tino shut the door behind them and grabbed Berwald's wrist where the principal had just let go.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave." The man said, looking into Tino's wide eyes.

"I c-can't leave! He won't talk-"

"He will talk, and he _will_ tell me what that was all about."

Berwald said nothing, wiping his bleeding nose on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

Tino knew Berwald wouldn't say anything, anyways. "He was just defending me! That kid, h-he hit the back of my head, and Berwald just overreacted, I swear it's not his fault!"

"Berwald, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Berwald said nothing, just held Tino's hand and looked at his shoes.

"This markets to a three-day suspension and a call to your parents. This is unacceptable behavior."

Tino spent the rest of the day sitting quietly in the office, holding Berwald's hand reassuringly.

* * *

They took the bus home, purposely sitting in the front so they wouldn't be noticed. They were noticed, of course, and they heard the whispering again, this time worse than before. Tino tried to ignore it as he doodled things in a loose-leaf notebook while Berwald watched. He'd just finished drawing a picture of Hitler in a ballerina outfit before the bus' brakes screeched, and the doors hissed open. They hurried out, speed walking toward Berwald's house before they were confronted by anyone else who got off the bus.

Both of them were wearing their varsity jackets with the words 'VARSITY HOCKEY' printed on the big patch on the back. Ivan Braginski was the captain of the team, and they were tough. The past few years they'd gone to state finals.

They reached the house, and Berwald used his key to get in the front door. Yellow light could be seen from the kitchen where Berwald's foster mother stood, talking on the phone. The taller blonde closed the door quietly, and they stepped upstairs with as little disturbance as possible.

Berwald had been put into the foster system in eighth grade after being removed from an abusive home. He'd been moved around to different homes for a while until finally settling here in freshman year. He'd then started to talk less and less, suffering with social anxiety and minor depression. Tino had been his only constant friend. They'd had other friends in freshman and sophomore years, like Mathias, Lukas, Emil… however, fights had separated Berwald and Mathias, leaving Lukas and Emil to choose between them. They'd stuck with Mathias, of course, and Tino made sure Berwald was alright.

As soon as they'd gotten to Berwald's room and shut the door, Tino flopped down on the bed with a heavy sigh. "Are you alright, Berwald?" The taller boy sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Are you 'lright, T'no?" Berwald looked over with a mostly blank expression, but Tino could read the concern in his voice. "Th'y w're whisp'rin again t'day."

"I know, Berwald. But it's alright! We've told each other countless times before, it doesn't matter what other people think! I am your boyfriend and nothing's gonna change that. I don't know what you're so afraid of." Tino held Berwald's steady gaze.

"God, T'no. You're too good f'r me." Tino sat up and pulled himself up next to Berwald, leaning into his side.

"I'm the one who should be saying that. But you don't need to get caught up in defending my honor, or something!" Tino bit his lip, wrapping his arms around Berwald's waist. He looked up at Berwald's troubled expression.

"Why do y' ev'n bother w'th me?" Berwald asked.

"I… I've got to heal you." Tino smiled, taking his weight off of the other. "Come on, do you want some help with your geometry homework? I can get the assignments for you so you don't get behind…"

That's just a challenge for them, Tino supposed, just a little hurdle in their relationship. He needed to be there for Berwald, because if he wasn't, he didn't know what Berwald would do.

_Mentally collapse, maybe._ Tino thought. _Let's just hope it never comes to that._

The two of them settled down on the comforter on Berwald's bed and began to study.

* * *

Screams. I thought I'd never finish that.

PLEASE PLEASE let me know if you want to hear more about Berwald and Tino! I'm not currently planning on putting any more chapters about them in, so if you want me to continue this, you must review, anonymously or not!

Thanks so much for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning!** Heavy mentions of abuse in this chapter!

This is getting a little heavy to write, so please don't blame me if some of the conversations are choppy! I'm trying my best.

Thanks for reading, and please review!

* * *

It was only 5:30 in the morning when Feliciano awoke, his head pounding and throat sore. He was drowsy and dizzy when he stood, the dark room spinning around him. The sun hadn't even started to rise yet, since daylight savings time was long gone. He stepped over to his dresser, pulling out the first pair of jeans he saw and a striped t-shirt. He changed slowly, sluggishly and exited his room. He was careful as he descended the stairs, because the house was old, and with a simple creak of the stairs he could wake Lovino.

His dark-haired twin had been avoiding him since their fight yesterday after Ludwig left. Feliciano had been kind of angry that Ludwig would leave like that, but he mentally slapped himself for thinking that because in the end, it had been _him_ that had told Ludwig to leave. Feliciano now brandished bruised ribs and a sore throat for his mistake. They had yelled for a long while, they had _screamed _in anger at each other. That is, until their grandfather had come to break them apart. And no one would question their grandfather.

He walked quietly into the living room, and passed into the kitchen. Running some water, he pulled out some caffeinated tea and brewed himself a cup. He poured milk and honey and sugar into it, indulging himself in one of the only ways he could. He stood leaned against the counter while he drank it, waiting for the sun to start to rise.

He looked at the clock; 6:07 AM. He would have to leave soon, in order to avoid seeing Lovino, who would wake up at around 6:30 and leave at 6:40.

He looked over to his backpack that sat on the table, untouched since after school yesterday. He'd been so angry he was unable to think, unable to have a straight thought after the shouting match the previous day, he'd been unable to think about doing homework at all. Lovino's backpack had been taken up to his room, where he, presumably, did his assignments.

Feliciano shrugged on a blue zip-up hoodie and a brown corduroy coat, running his fingers through unkempt wavy hair. It was damn cold out that morning, at around freezing temperature. Shouldering his backpack, he set out for the bus stop.

At their school, there are two buses in the morning at each stop. There's the 6:20 bus and the 6:40 bus; the first bus simply picks up the kids that need to arrive at school early, and the second bus gets students to the school at the normal time. Classes were called to order at 7:00. He and Lovino normally take the second bus together, but today was different after the fight.

Feliciano walked down the dark street, looking around at the houses he saw. They looked like huge faces, with gaping mouths where the dark porches opened up, broken windows like eyes staring down at him. In the daylight the street was fine, but in the dark it was frightening. He wished Lovino was there. He walked faster.

He tried to keep his hands away from his sides, where he'd elbow his bruised ribs, but he couldn't find a comfortable pose to walk in at the same time. He ended up walking with his hands on his shoulders, arms crossed over his chest. He'd reached the stop sign, and somehow it was brighter here than before. There were no more silhouettes of trees above him, no more ghosts of houses gawking at him behind sidewalks. There was only the gray sky over the stop sign and the road, void of cars. A light fog had rolled in over the road, tiny yellow and red lights of cars visible down the long stretch.

Finally, the yellow bus rolled into sight. It stopped with a creak, and the door hissed open. The driver looked down at Feliciano, nodding a hello. He stepped onto the bus, looking back into the rows and the door swung shut behind him. There were only a few people on the bus, since not many high school students are early risers anyways. He sat down in the second-to-last seat on the left side of the bus.

The taste of his overly-sweetened tea still clung to his mouth and he popped in his earbuds. A familiar song came on, one of his old favorites from freshman year. He mouthed the words as the bus started to roll.

* * *

It was at lunch that he started to feel more optimistic about the day, because he knew he'd get to see Ludwig again. Even after the fight, the notion that he'd get to see his friend again was exciting at best. Maybe he'd have a chance to explain things to Ludwig, maybe apologize.

He had arrived at the lunch table first, waiting for Kiku and Ludwig to arrive. It didn't take long, though, and the three of them greeted each other warmly.

Kiku started to talk about a program he'd downloaded on his laptop that he could use to make games; he'd decided he was going to make a puzzle horror game. Feliciano spouted ideas for him, elaborating excitedly on an idea for a monster made out of pasta.

He and Ludwig had made eye contact once, Ludwig's gaze full of worry and guilt. Of course, he'd have to apologize to him. He'd have to wait until after lunch, when Kiku wasn't present. They chattered on throughout lunch, drawing little sketches to help Kiku with his game. Kiku turned out to be amazing at drawing. While Feliciano preferred painting to anything else, he wasn't bad either and soon the two of them had filled a page of loose-leaf paper while the blonde critiqued them and gave them more ideas.

It was when the rest of the lunchroom had started to stand up that had made Feliciano a little bewildered. How was he supposed to get Ludwig alone when they were standing in a crowd of students? He glanced over at the blonde, who caught his gaze, and seemed to take a cue, grabbing Feliciano's wrist and pulling him through the crowd. "Come with me," Ludwig had said, leading him out into the hallway and into the men's bathroom, which was thankfully empty as the students outside shuffled to their next classes.

It was here when an uncomfortable silence began.

"I'm s-" Feliciano began.

"I'm sorry." Ludwig cut him off with his own apology. "I shouldn't have asked about your parents, and even when I did. I shouldn't have left you there with your brother so angry like that.

Feliciano was speechless. He did nothing but stare into the pale eyes of the boy in front of him, a shocked and pained expression on his face. The blonde looked so_ sincere_, and meeting someone like that for the first time in so long was… almost _refreshing_.

He finally moved himself to speak, glancing down at his shoes. "I… n-no. It's not your fault at all, Ludwig. Lovino was just angry. It's really alright."

"Are you sure you're alright?"

He looked back up into the blue eyes, and in that moment, he broke. "I. Yes. No? N-no, I'm not alright!" Tears at the corners of his eyes threatened to spill over. "F-first it's these bullies, then they ruined homecoming, and now Lovino hates my only friend?"

Just then, Ludwig stepped forward and swept Feliciano up into a hug. It wasn't a crushing hug, but it wasn't soft either, and Feliciano clung to the blonde as hot tears slipped from his eyes. "I-I'm so sorr-e-ee…" Feliciano said quietly, the echoes in the bathroom magnifying the sounds he made.

Ludwig just held onto the boy, unsure of exactly what to do, but realized that this hug was probably a good idea. Suddenly, Feliciano recoiled from him, mutters of _ow, ow_ heard from the smaller's lips.

"Feliciano, what's wrong?"

"It's- it's nothing. Lovino, yesterday he- really, it's fine."

Ludwig looked panicked. "It's not fine! You just said so yourself! What did he do!?"

Feliciano looked up at Ludwig again, suddenly placed with this decision of trust. "He… after you left, well." He clutched at the hem of his shirt, pulling it down slightly.

Ludwig looked down. He'd figured out what had happened. His chest tightened as he looked at the dark circles under the redhead's eyes. He quite obviously hadn't slept well. "Are you sure you're alright? I've… I've already played a part in this. I need to help you."

Feliciano's eyes itched. "I don't think… that I can go home today. I haven't seen him since yesterday when we were fighting, and I just… I don't want to go back home today."

"Come over to my house. After school, you can spend the night." Ludwig met Feli's eyes again, and Feliciano nodded.

"I'd… really appreciate it, Ludwig." Feliciano really smiled for the first time that day.

* * *

Ludwig had made a cellphone call home to his dad, who was supposedly sleeping. His father picked up with a drowsy 'hello?' He'd quickly explained that a friend of his was going to spend the night, so to expect a guest after school. He hung up before his father could protest.

He told Feliciano to meet him on bus N after school, and when Feliciano climbed on the bus, Ludwig was already there waiting for him. They sat in the front of the bus, talking idly about something Feliciano had heard on the news. It didn't take long for the bus to arrive at Ludwig's neighborhood, which was a relatively upscale one at that. He and Feli stepped off of the rumbling bus and it started moving again.

The two of them walked down the curving sidewalk for only about five houses, reaching Ludwig's rather quickly. They walked around to the side, past the tall stone porch you needed two steps to get up to. The house was very tall as well, probably two floors with high ceilings, Feli assumed. They approached the white side door and Ludwig unlocked it with a number code, then they entered the cream-colored house.

Feli had been right; the ceilings _were_ rather tall, a white support beam rising into the ceiling from the hardwood floor. Ludwig was quick to take them upstairs (pausing to take his shoes off, of course; Feliciano did the same) and they entered his bedroom.

Ludwig turned to him. "Well… this is my room."

Inside here, things weren't as pristine as the kitchen or living room. A poster hung crookedly on the wall, displaying some rock band. There were a few weights in one corner; they looked like they hadn't been used in a while. Off to the side, there was a door that lead to a small bathroom with a sink and a toilet. The walls in the room were painted a medium green, and the carpet was white. Sunlight threatened to pervade the window through the tilted slats, but couldn't quite shine bright enough through the clouds. The bed was placed in the center of one wall, with white comforters that hadn't been made entirely.

"Thanks for having me over, Ludwig!" Feliciano smiled at him.

They talked for a while, about random things. About Kiku, about the rumor they'd heard, about movies again, about food. Ludwig shared his love for weapons; he showed Feliciano some magazines showing off 'Last Year's Top 100 Guns!', and they'd spent a while leafing through it. It was really peaceful, Ludwig thought.

Ludwig's father eventually came upstairs to say hello, and the blonde introduced him to Feliciano. "Ve~ It's nice to meet you~" Feliciano had said, smiling wide.

"Ah, it's nice to meet you too." Mr. Beilschmidt was a bit confused, and he sent a look over to Ludwig, who just scowled. Of course his father would find it strange that a friend was spending the night on a Wednesday. He left quickly, saying he had a lot of work to do.

This left Feliciano and Ludwig alone again. They talked for a while longer, by the yellow lamplight coming from the bedside table. "Do you want to borrow some pajamas or something?" Ludwig said.

Feliciano shook his head immediately, almost too quickly. "No, I'm sure I'll be fine~" He said, his voice betraying him when it cracked on the last syllable. He crossed his arms lightly over his stomach.

"Show me." Ludwig said, his pale eyes searching for Feliciano's brown ones.

Feliciano just puffed out a breath. "I'm… I'm alright. I swear."

Ludwig moved over to him, taking his hand. "Show me. Please."

Feliciano closed his eyes and lifted the hem of his striped shirt, pulling it up just above his ribs. He heard Ludwig draw a breath, and he winced. What Ludwig saw were blotches of black and purple skin, bruises left by kicks and fighting and tears. He pulled Feliciano's shirt back down, and just hugged the red-head. Feliciano clung to him, holding onto Ludwig's shoulders with his skinny arms.

"He did this to you? Your brother?"

"He… please don't blame Lovino. He just… gets really sensitive when people talk about our parents. He's just… upset with the world and how it works. He doesn't mean what he says," Feliciano exhaled. "or does."

Ludwig gave him a steady look.

"I'm tired, so let's sleep, okay~?" Feliciano tried to keep himself from sounding sad. He was tired of being sad.

"Y-yeah. Let's sleep." Ludwig laid down on one side of the bed, waited for Feliciano to settle into the other side, and switched off the light.

* * *

I'm really not content with how that last scene came out, but I have to get working on chapter 6. Hopefully it won't be as heavy or bad hehehe

The next side-pairing will be LietPol, I've decided. It will most likely be around chapter 8 or 9.

Thanks again!


	6. Chapter 6

Hopefully you guys will like this chapter (especially this first scene hehehe). I'm a bit happy with it myself, but I think this story needs to get a move on... I hope you all feel the same! Much homo in the future, I promise...

**More instances of bullying in this chapter!** Sorry again about not including the warnings before.

* * *

It was the next morning when Feliciano woke up that he noticed something was off. He was in an unfamiliar room, in the dark, with some strange weight pressing down on his waist. He let his vision clear, eyes snapping into focus before looking down and realizing what that weight actually _was_; it was a pair of pale arms wrapped around his waist, hands hanging limply as the person slept behind him.

He nearly yelped, and he did make a noise; a quick inhalation, short of a gasp. What he _did_ do was jump out of the bed, jolting awake a very startled blonde. Ludwig nearly jumped out of his skin, waking up and realizing the position he'd been holding Feliciano. He quickly rolled over the other direction, thus falling onto the ground with a thump.

_Somehow_, in his sleep, Ludwig had held onto Feliciano like a teddy bear. "I'm… oh god, I'm sorry," Blushing furiously, Ludwig laughed, his voice strained. He mentally slapped himself a hundred times.

"Aahahaha! Ludwig held onto me while I was sleeping!" Feliciano just laughed it off. Ludwig sent him a confused and embarrassed look, clearly ashamed, even if he'd done it unconsciously. His whole face had turned red, blushing from the tip of his nose all the way up to his forehead, where blonde brows knit into the most embarrassed scowl.

"I… that's just what I get for sleeping in the same bed as you! I should have pulled out a cot or a sleeping bag, or something!" He picked up a pillow and hurled it at Feliciano, and it hit the red-head with a soft _whump_. Feliciano's laughter rang out, making the blonde feel a little better about himself. At least he wasn't angry; more than one person would've been.

"What time is it?" Feliciano asked. "There's school today."

Ludwig glanced over to the nightstand, at the silver digital clock that stood next to the lamp. _7:05_ the large red numbers flashed. "Oh god, it's 7:05! We're already late!"

The two of them got ready in a flurry of flying clothes and hairgel, and then dashed downstairs to put on their shoes and coats. Ludwig pulled on his black doc martens, not bothering to lace them up, and Feliciano donned a worn out pair of converse. They shrugged on their backpacks before nearly jumping out the door to Ludwig's car.

Feliciano hopped into the passenger's seat while Ludwig started the engine, quickly backing out of the driveway and winding down the road out of the neighborhood. It was only a few minutes later, at 7:15 that they arrived in the school parking lot. There were only a few cars left trying to find a parking space, and Ludwig rudely cut one of them off in order to snag a spot a _manageable_ distance from the doors. They jumped out of the car, slamming the doors, and ran full speed to the school entrance. Feliciano was huffing for breath already as Ludwig pulled the heavy door open for him.

Feliciano said a rushed goodbye to Ludwig in the hallway, and didn't even bother to go to his locker before getting to class. He only sprinted toward the English wing, arriving inside the door _just_ as the bell rang at 7:21. That was so close; but he hadn't been late, in fact. His teacher had glanced at him warily, but he'd given a guilty smile and that was all the thought that went into it.

The hour passed by very slowly, with a lecture on grammar. He listened to the teacher for a while, and then slowly lowered his head onto his desk. He'd heard this all before; it wasn't like he was going to _die_ if he didn't listen. He just relaxed his shoulders into the smooth desk, drifting into a shallow sleep. He found it strange that he started to dream in such a place; he saw colors and shapes in a strange surreal dream that slowly focused into silhouettes of people. The figures danced around in his subconscious, entertaining him well. He couldn't place exactly who they looked like, their faces blurry and out of focus. He spent what seemed like hours trying to talk to them, watching them move around.

He was awoken by the sound of the bell again. Quickly gathering his thoughts, he left the classroom. He headed up to his locker, which he knew was right next to Lovino's. The alphabetical order of things really fucked him over, didn't it. Preparing himself for the worst, he walked up to the blue door and dialed his combination. He couldn't help himself from stealing several glances over his shoulder, and he caught sight of Lovino; a very tired looking Lovino. The dark haired twin had circles under his eyes so dark that Feliciano wasn't sure he'd slept at all. His face looked splotchy and his skin was pale, giving him a sickly quality. He simply radiated anger, until he glanced upwards and saw Feliciano standing at his locker.

Lovi nearly sprinted over, barreling past two students as he ran towards Feliciano. "Where have you been, you idiot? I've been so fucking worried, you didn't even call me!"

Feliciano turned back to his locker without any expression. "I went to a friend's." He said simply. "Don't worry about me, Lovi."

Lovino seemed to just get more worked up. "Of course I'm gonna worry about you, Feli! I hardly slept at all, you weren't picking up your phone, and- and- augh!" He cried out in frustration, drawing the attention of several students in the hallway walking past them. "I'm sorry about Tuesday. I'm so sorry, Feli. I just- I wish I could take it back." He looked into his twin's matching eyes with something like humility, and something like guilt. A mixture of both, maybe.

The red-head had pulled out all of the books he needed and put away his backpack, so he shut the locker and leaned against the door. "I know you're sorry, Lovi. I forgive you. But please, be nice to Ludwig, okay? He's my good friend. He's not a bad guy, really!"

Scoffing, Lovino growled, "You can't be serious, he was just shamelessly asking questions! How can you expect me to be nice to such a guy?"

"The same way I can tell you not to hit me."

Lovino looked down at his shoes then. "I'm sorry."

Feliciano just smiled his normal smile, pulling Lovino into a soft hug without putting any pressure on his ribs. Lovino didn't know exactly how to react to his awkward sibling-hug, so he just put his hands on Feli's shoulder blades and loosely hugged him back. "N-now," Lovino began, "We're over this, right? You've accepted my apolo-" He was cut off as someone shoved him from behind. He fell into the lockers beside Feliciano, Arthur, Alfred and Francis appearing from the crowded hallway.

"What the hell is this bullshit feelings jam? Grow up!" Arthur cackled over the hum of conversation. Alfred chuckled beside him.

"Shut up, dickbreath. Don't touch me." Lovino growled, picking himself up from the slump he'd fallen into against the lockers. "What the hell are you even doing here? We were minding our own business."

"Oh, but isn't that our line?" Francis grinned. "You're all but infamous for butting into other people's business."

"Where the fuck did you get that idea?"

"Oh, seems you've been hanging out with Antonio a bit lately…" Francis trailed off, leaving Feliciano confused.

Alfred suddenly moved forward, away from the shrinking flow of students heading to their next classes. A few of them glanced in their direction as Alfred pinned Lovino to the lockers, taking both of the brunette's arms above his head with one hand, and pushing the other arm against Lovino's chest. He kicked at Alfred's shins, but couldn't land a hit hard enough. "Aaaand… I think you owe me some money." Said Alfred, drawled out in a strange tone.

"I didn't even borrow any-" Lovino paused mid-sentence as he understood what Alfred meant. His wallet was in his locker, with only about thirty dollars in fives in the leather pouch.

Feliciano was suddenly very afraid. These people were going to hurt his brother, and take his money and possibly hurt him, if he didn't do something soon. But in his fear, he just kept backing away, backing away. _Stop it_, he told himself._ You're virtually waving a hundred white flags, just stand up for him!_

But he couldn't.

"What are you doing, Alfred?" A familiar deep voice demanded. It was Ludwig! He moved towards them. He sounded angry.

Now, Ludwig, being physically bigger than Alfred, and probably more fit than the sweet-loving blonde, was a very intimidating force. Alfred quickly dropped Lovino to the ground, holding his hands up in surrender. "H-hey, you don't need to get involve-"

"Get out of here." Ludwig said in a cold tone. The three of them absconded, cowardly. They were going to be late for class, anyways, whether they cared or not.

Ludwig turned to Feliciano, almost ignoring Lovino, leaving the brunette to stand on his own. He seemed almost grudgingly avoiding looking at Lovino before he asked the panicked Feliciano if he was alright. Feliciano just nodded, exhaling a deep breath, laughing. Thank _god_ Ludwig had gotten there. He didn't know how that would've ended.

"A-anyways." Lovino began, "Thanks… for getting rid of them. I'm sure I could have done it myself, b-but I was just in a compromising position and-"

Ludwig nearly chuckled. "You're welcome."

Feliciano laughed. "Come on, we're all gonna be late for class!"

Lovino dashed off without going to his locker, deciding he didn't really need his history book today. This left Feliciano and Ludwig alone in the hallway again, but they didn't have much time. The redhead just looked up into Ludwig's eyes and clasped his arms around him in a quick harsh hug. Ludwig didn't have any time to react before he let go just as quickly as he'd grabbed him.

"Ve, thank you, Ludwig! For everything!" He beamed as he ran to his next class.

Ludwig blushed as the bell rang through the hallways, signifying that he really was late.

* * *

It was at home that night that Ludwig finally started to realize what was going on. He was sitting at his desk, trying to study for a history test. He was studying a test on World War I, reading about battles and soldiers in the trenches. He liked reading about history. It's like drama, but with countries instead of people. He spun a pen in his right hand around between his fingers, noticing his cuticles starting to get dried out from the cold weather. It happened every year; in the winter months his skin dried out and his fingers bled unless he put lotion on them every night. He usually forgot, so his fingers looked like they'd been through a battle. He noticed his thoughts started to slip, drifting over to his conversation with Feliciano the previous night.

They'd had wonderful conversation; that of friends. He hadn't had many friends before that; just a few good friends in elementary school and some acquaintances in middle school, people he asked for help on his homework. With Feliciano, it was more intimate than that, like he could share his personal opinions and thoughts without worrying about it. It was almost… relieving? He heard the ring of Feliciano's laugher in his mind, confused as to why he'd remember that. Why _had_ he remembered Feliciano's laughter?

It then dawned on him.

How in just a few days, this boy had touched his life. For the first time in a long, long while, he felt worried. He felt concern, shed tears for someone else. He wanted Feliciano to be happy right now, just to take some of his problems away. He cared more about Feliciano than about himself, really, something really unheard of, since he'd only met the red-head a few days prior. There was only one thing that fit his feelings at the moment.

He was falling for the kid.

Dammit.

* * *

*sigh*

how was that? I'm working hard to keep the chapters just over 2k each! The longest so far was chapter 5 at 2,349 and the shortest was chapter 3 at 1,983... this one clocks in at just about 2,020.

Please review! More reviews, more chapters!


	7. Chapter 7

Hey! Here's the LietPol side-pairing chapter while I try to get my notes organized.

**Warning: Alcohol! and a lot of angst!**

I didn't upload a chapter yesterday because I was plotting out the next chapter with Ludwig and Feli- I'm not giving anything away, but it will heavily involve Lovino, possibly Alfred, and most likely Matthew (canada).

And since I didn't make the regular update, I made this one EXTRA LONG! It's almost 900 words over the target length. Whew! Hope you enjoy!

* * *

_Pain burst through his head, behind his skull, between his temples. For a moment he was just gone; there was blackness, pain and the smell of alcohol in the air. Then, suddenly, he was back in first grade. There was a hand wound around his, small fingers interlaced between each other. They were sitting on the swings; yes, that's right… the swings, he remembers. The green ones that the big kids said could swing the highest. He was wearing khaki shorts and had Band-Aids on his knees from falling on the wood chips yesterday. He could hear the sound of kids yelling as the daily four-square tournament went on; he heard that a girl in his class, Rachel Curtis, was just the best there was. He was smiling, looking over to the person who held his hand, at his best friend through green eyes._

_'Feliks, do you take Toris as your lawfully wed-did husband?' The kid in front of them had asked. He was fairly sure that wasn't a word, but he wasn't gonna question this kid. This was playground marriage, they'd given this kid three jolly ranchers and a Hershey bar to do this for them and make it official. He'd sworn on the grave of every dead cat in the neighborhood that it would go down in history. Feliks grinned wide, showing off his missing front teeth._

_I do, I do! Oh, Toris. Like, of course I do!_

"I do…" He was mumbling as the blackness appeared again, swallowing the image in a swirling torrent of pain in his frontal lobe. What had he done again…? It was hard to remember why his head hurt so much. Someone… someone was shaking his shoulder. He pawed them away, batting his hand blindly in the air and hitting nothing. Instead, his arm just flopped back down onto the hardwood floor, making a thud that seemed way too loud.

"Feliks? Feliks, wake up!" He heard someone shout. Well, maybe not _shout_, but it sounded like it in his own head. Everything was magnified a hundred times louder right now in his pounding head, the ringing in his ears not making anything better.

"Whasaya w'nt?" He drawled slowly, still not opening his eyes and trying not to move his aching head.

"Feliks, you had another party. After I specifically told you not to anymore!" The voice was clearer this time, more in focus, but still too loud. _Much_ too loud. He could tell who it was now; it was Toris. He cracked open his right eye to look up at the brunette, but immediately regretted it as the sunlight shined in the house from the open blinds. He could've sworn he shut those last night—"Feliks!" He'd been letting his mind trail.

"Mmmm, Toris. M' s'rry. There wern't _that_ m'ny people there… You should've cooome…" There had only been, what, forty people at the entire thing? At least there was beer. And vodka. And rum… ooh, the rum was what got him. He shouldn't have drank so much of it…

"No, Feliks! Look at yourself!" Feliks, of course, couldn't really look at himself, because _damn_ was it bright in there, but if he could, he would've seen a terrible hung-over mess. "C-come on, get up. I'll help you get to a bed."

Feliks didn't say anything as Toris wrapped an arm around his skinny torso and hauled him off the ground. They (mostly Toris) hobbled across the house to Feliks' tiny bedroom, and the blonde was dropped into the plush mattress. He instinctively grabbed onto Toris' shoulders of course, and the brunette came down on top of him as he groaned from the impact to his head. Toris pushed his arms off of him before anything else, standing up in a hurry. "F-Feliks. I think you might have a real problem with these parties. You need to stop, please. For me?"

Feliks wanted to say yes, he wanted to do anything to make Toris happy, but he knew he wouldn't be able to.

* * *

Later, Toris had left his house in a huff, and Feliks' head had still hurt too much to protest. The blonde had passed out on the mattress just shortly after, too out of it to get upset. It seemed he couldn't react the right way at all today.

His parents had been out of town for the weekend, a stereotypical reason for a teenager to have a party, but he'd gone and had one anyways. They'd gone to attend his great-great-grandfather's or someone's funeral in Poland, get on the will, get some inheritance shit. Whatever. It wasn't like they didn't have enough money or anything. His father was a decent politician; he'd run for governor two times, but lost, and settled for some other city position and now he worked with the mayor.

The thing about Feliks was he was terribly in love. He was uncharacteristically shy when it came to these matters, however, and winning over the heart of his best friend would be a difficult challenge that he seemed unprepared for. See, he'd run into the same problem as guys who've been 'friend zoned', the term being loosely applied. He didn't want to mess up their relationship, wanted to be close to Toris as much as possible. He wanted everything to be the same as it was already, except with the physical things; the kissing, the intimacy. And less drinking.

The drinking, he found, brought out the real flirtatious personality he had. It brought out the flirtatious personality in everyone else, too. He could flirt with the girls and with the guys, and feel confident because everyone was too drunk to care anyways. He felt like a creature whose habitat was at a party, and the rest of the time he was a fish out of water. Somewhere he hid behind his clothing and behind his books.

The only thing about it was that Toris didn't like it, but that was sort of the point. The parties weren't really interesting unless Toris was there being his especially tiresome self, worrying about him at some point or another. He liked it, sort of, when Toris worried about him, because then it gave him an illusion or a glimmer of hope that he'd one day get the courage to tell Toris how he felt.

He still remembered that day on the playground when their tennis shoes thudded on the blacktop to race to the swings, hearts pounding, because they were gonna get _married_. And here, ten years later, he still thought about it. How long they'd been best friends. He wondered when he started thinking about Toris like that; the first desire for his touch. It must've been some time in middle school, but he liked to pretend that middle school didn't happen. It was too embarrassing, for everyone, that it was generally a taxing endeavor for all involved. He assumed Toris had forgotten about the playground, though, and about the silly dreams he and the blonde had when they were just kids. He _had_ forgotten about it, right?

It didn't matter anyways.

Feliks stood up from the mattress almost 6 hours later, on a Saturday. It was later in the afternoon, maybe 3:00. He walked into the kitchen and immediately grabbed something to drink; it looked like vitamin water but it could've been Gatorade or something else. The taste in his mouth was _awful_, like he'd swallowed tar or something.

Once he'd chugged an entire bottle of vitamin water and a glass of tap water, he went to go look in the mirror in the bathroom now that he could stand. He probably looked like a wreck. Oh, and that he did. His blonde hair was tangled and knotted in the back, static making it stand on end as it frayed from its usual position. He forced a brush through it; probably harder than he needed to. There were dark circles under his eyes, but he ignored them.

He heard the phone ring from back in the kitchen (still too loud; his head faintly pounded) and he walked painstakingly over to pick it up.

"Hey. This is like, Feliks." He grumbled, trying to sound at least half-alive just in case it was someone important on the other end.

"Uh. H-hey." Came the unsteady reply. It was Toris' voice. "I'd hoped you were awake by now. Are you doing okay?"

Huh. Toris was calling? He was concerned for him! That made the blonde feel a bit better. But he also thought about that morning, when an upset Toris had stormed from the house. He'd hurt him! He'd hurt his Toris and needed to apologize.

"Oh. H-hey Toris." He hesitated, planning out his words carefully as his head throbbed. "I'm like, so sorry about this morning, and about… last night. That was totally not cool of me."

He heard Toris sigh on the other line. "Feliks… You shouldn't be drinking anyways. You're only sixteen! I only care about you, I don't want you to hurt yourself, or do something you'll regret!"

At this, he felt anger bubbling up beneath his hangover. "Toris, I can do some things on my own! You just need to _trust_ me a little, alright!?"

Toris stuttered over the connection, "Feliks, w-wait I'm sor-" but his voice was abruptly cut off as Feliks hung up the phone, slamming it back down onto the receiver. He sat down on the hardwood floor, hitting an empty beer can that he didn't see there before and sending it clattering across the kitchen. Leaning against the cabinets, he felt a sob stuck in his throat. His head seemed worse again, but it was probably just him being more aware of it now. Maybe it was the same.

There was a glass beer bottle sitting under the ledge of the cabinet on the floor between him and the refrigerator. He picked it up, studying it in his hand, before throwing it, watching it shatter against the wall with a loud noise of breaking glass. There was a mark on the wall where it'd hit, and shards of the brown-tinted bottle covered the floor. One flew far enough back to hit him on his shin, and he flinched away from it.

Sobs were coming openly from him now as he bent forward to try and pick the mess up; however, this was probably a bad idea as his hands were shaking and his vision was blurry and his head still pounded. His hands were a bleeding mess by the time he gave up, slices along his palms and on the pads of his fingers that stung badly.

He tried to use his hands to stand up, but didn't realize the pain that would entail; he ended up falling on his face on the kitchen floor, his upper arm landing on more glass. He didn't even bother to move. Crying out in a low moan was all he could do, his strength giving out, the pounding in his head taking over. He shuddered with sobs, his shoulders racking until it finally slowed when he was near unconsciousness.

He'd almost fallen asleep on the floor when he heard the doorbell ring. _Oh, fuck it. They'll leave after a while. It's probably just, like, solicitors or something, or Jehovah's witnesses._ His thoughts were angry as the doorbell rang a second time, this one twice rapidly. The bell rang increasingly frantically until it stopped for a moment. Just when he'd assumed the person was gone, he heard a key twisting in the doorknob.

The door clanged open with a resounding sound that it made when it opened each time; the door fit so snugly into the frame that it was impossible to open it without everyone in the house hearing; his parents had used the tactic when he was a kid, but he'd quickly learned that sneaking out the window was easier anyways with the tree by his room. He heard two or three footsteps, then the door slammed shut hastily.

"F-Feliks!?" He heard a shaky voice call out into the dim hallway illuminated faintly by the light in the mud room. It was Toris, of course, over at his house for the second time that day. He'd probably gotten so worried after that phone call, thought Feliks was going to do something stupid, oh Toris, _Toris_, Feliks loved the boy so much.

Toris had come from the hallway and entered the doorway of the kitchen, looking down at the figure curled on the ground, and _god, he had done something stupid, hadn't he?_ Toris nearly screamed, but only uttered a strangled cry when he spied the blonde. He dropped to his knees immediately, probably falling onto glass himself, but he lifted the Feliks' head onto his lap, shaking him again, and all of this was eerily familiar, wasn't it? "Feliks, what did you do?!"

He pulled the blonde into a sitting position, and more tears fell out of Feliks' green eyes as he nearly tackled Toris. His body shook with sobs, harder than before, flooded with emotions and sorrow and his brain screaming _I LOVE YOU_, trying to somehow beam the message into Toris' head. "Feliks! Feliks, what's wrong? Are you okay? Oh, oh my god." He'd noticed what had happened, the neck of the bottle still relatively together as the rest of the brown shards littered the floor. He held Feliks' wrists, trying to get a look at his hands, but there were beads of blood that had smeared over the clear skin, so it wasn't obvious where the cuts were.

Feliks; His brain was fuzzy from the hangover, his eyes dry from crying, hands bleeding, hair tangled. He decided to take a chance.

Feliks leaned back from Toris' shoulder, and the two of them shared a moment of full eye contact. Now _both_ of them were crying, Feliks out of pain and out of his episode, and now Toris out of concern. Feliks leaned in, pressing his lips (albeit roughly) against Toris', in a full move of desperation.

It wasn't exactly the most organized of kisses, nor the gentlest, being instigated by such an influenced mind, so Toris made a muffled sound and leaned back, instinctively trying to escape. Their lips broke and Toris fell onto his back, Feliks moving over him. The blonde held himself up with his arms, ignoring the pain in his bleeding palms as the brunette exhaled the surprised gasp he'd been holding in.

There was a moment of panic for Feliks; _what had he just done?!_ He'd ruined everything by getting ahead of himself! Now Toris was going to hate him forever, and the playground wedding would be a lie- and- and- his thoughts were disorganized, not sure whether to be calm or to freak out.

Suddenly it was Feliks gasping as Toris leaned back up and captured his lips once again, this time gentler- Toris probably had more experience in kissing. He pushed them upright, grabbing Feliks' biceps to anchor him. Feliks kept his hands floating in front of him, the pressure removed and the conscious pain coming back.

They separated, and Feliks gave Toris a shocked look. "Do you know how long I've waited to do that?" Toris said quietly, and smiled at him.

Feliks almost went into shock right there. He pulled Toris to his chest in a crushing hug. "I… I love you, Toris! I totally love you, okay!" His tears were happy now as Toris rubbed his back in soothing circles.

"F-Feliks, your hands… What is all this?"

"I love you, Toris. All the parties, all the drinking, it was all just so you'd _notice_! I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, sorry…" He repeated his apology like some kind of mantra.

Meanwhile, Toris pulled him into a standing position and carefully helped him step his socked feet around the broken glass to wash his hands in the sink. It had stung, like every kind of cut does, and Toris ran to grab some Band-Aids from the first aid kit he knew was in the bathroom.

They'd settled down into the couch, Feliks leaned on Toris' lap, and turned on some television as they both calmed down.

"Hey. Toris, do you remember that time in like, first grade when we hired that one kid to marry us on the swing set?" He reached up and tangled his fingers in Toris' long brown locks.

Toris laughed for a second and said, "Yes, I do remember. You fell on the blacktop during a four-square match the day before and scraped your knees up."

Feliks _did_ remember that now; he'd lost against a girl whose name he couldn't remember. "Do you think that, like, still counts now? Ten years later?"

Toris thought for a moment. "I don't know. But I think I want it to." He leaned down for a kiss.

* * *

So, how did you like this goliath of a chapter? Pleeease review? I'm so thankful to all the people who have already sent me reviews and messages- thank you all so much. I wouldn't have got this far without you all.


	8. Chapter 8

Sssshhh, here's a quick chapter before I go to school. Hope you like it, I was pressed for time.

* * *

Shit.

Shit shit _shit shit __**shit**__!_

Generally, falling in love with your friend is a _terrible_ thing. It can damage or ruin a relationship altogether, can make things awkward; can destroy the people's opinions on each other. And worse yet, Feliciano was a _guy_! Ludwig wondered when he'd turned gay. What the hell? This had never happened before. He liked _girls. _Hot _girls._ Like sports illustrated magazines! He still read those! He couldn't be gay, that's impossible!

Yet, it was all right there. He couldn't help but let his thoughts drift to Feliciano whenever he had a spare moment, and caught himself getting a little _too_ excited to see the boy when he had a chance. Mentally slapping himself, he forced himself to believe that it was a lie. He could never fall for that red-brown hair, or olive skin, or the way his eyes crinkle up when he smiles- wait, fuck.

Ludwig forced himself to sit the hell down and start his homework. His classes had been getting tougher lately, assigning more and more work for him to do (as if he wasn't stressed enough). He'd been trailing a bit, trying to get his social life in order while maintaining decent grades, at the least. He'd never exactly done _bad_ in school, but he'd been nothing more than an average student since elementary school.

He started working on his math homework, geometry. His grade had been steadily declining, and he'd decided that it was time to step it up a little, and really concentrate on trying to bring his grade up. Starting on the first problem, he'd determined that it would only take about an hour to finish his assignment, then maybe he would have time to watch a movie or something before he had to go to bed. Maybe he'd surf the internet for a while.

After only a few problems, however, he heard the phone ring. He debated picking up or just leaving it to ring; he needed to finish this assignment. If he didn't, he'd lose valuable points for his grade. However, he decided to pick it up around the fourth high-pitched ring. Picking up the wireless phone beside him, he pressed the pound button.

"Hello?" He greeted the caller.

"H-hello. Ludwig?" The voice of Feliciano, quiet and hoarse, asked from the other line.

Ludwig's heart tightened for a moment. Why did Feliciano sound so… _scared?_ "Ah, Feliciano. What is it?"

"It's… um." He paused to take in a shuddery breath. "I'm at the hospital right now. It's Lovino- he- he got hit- by a car-r," His breath shuddered in his lungs, making his voice come out in a strange high tone. Ludwig heard more deep breaths. He was trying to keep his composure.

Oh. Oh god. At the hospital?

Ludwig nearly panicked. "Which hospital!? Do you need me to come up there?" He stood from his desk, turning around, ready to grab some shoes and his keys and go right then.

"I… Y-yes, please. He's unconscious, a-and I'm alone here," His voice still shook.

He told Ludwig where the hospital was, and the blonde told him he'd be up as soon as he could. He reassured Feliciano more than once before he hung up that he'd be there soon. Forgetting all about his homework, Ludwig ran downstairs, slipping on a black jacket and grabbing his keys. He left the house without even telling his father, deciding he can just text him on the way.

He got into his silver car quickly, backing out of the driveway and getting out of his neighborhood in a fair amount of time. He drove onto the main road, pushing the speed limit a little at all times. The hospital was only about a twenty minute drive from his house.

The entire time he was a knot of tension behind the wheel, leaning forward slightly as he ran a red light. He sped toward the hospital, praying the entire time that Feliciano and his twin would be okay.

Pulling into the hospital parking lot, he cut off a middle aged woman who honked her horn at him and flipped him off. This put him just in time to snag the close parking spot she'd been going for; he pulled in quickly and jumped out of his car, locking it as he walked briskly toward the door.

He stepped inside the inner doors and headed up to a receptionist, asking her where the emergency wing was and where a boy named Lovino Vargas could be found. She responded hesitantly, but the urgency in Ludwig's voice probably keyed her in that this was incredibly important to him. She pointed him toward the emergency wing, telling him to go through a set of double doors down the hallway to the left. He nodded his thanks and set off at a near run.

He pushed through the double doors to enter a waiting area with padded benches; the fabric of the pads was annoyingly psychedelic, Hawaiian flowers mirrored on a green and orange background, as if to try and cheer up the panicked people who were fated to wait in the room for their loved ones.

That is, in fact, exactly what Feliciano was doing. He was sitting on one of the benches, clutching his cell phone in his hands and looking at the ground. Tears fell from his eyes and onto the regulation hospital carpeting. The grey carpet had dark spots on it from where his tears had impacted.

An equally distressed kid stood next to the bench, pacing back and forth and muttering panicked rambles under his breath. This boy, Ludwig recognized, was Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, a senior from his history class. The kid spoke fluent Spanish, and seemed to be slipping into it now, accented syllables audible from where he spoke.

"Feliciano!" He called out, and the red-head looked up. His eyes were filled with a horrified emotion, a mix of fear and sadness and anxiety, that overflowed in his damp brown eyes. Antonio glanced up, almost scared that he was someone coming to tell them bad news. Feliciano shot up from his seat, standing up as Ludwig pulled him into a tight hug. The two of them embraced as Feliciano shuddered and shook, his nervousness causing his hands to shake violently.

Ludwig released him, taking his hand and sitting them both down on the ugly floral bench. Antonio looked them over, a worried brow wrinkled in a look of nervousness. "How is he?" Ludwig asked, not quite excited to hear the news. He didn't really _like_ the red-head's twin, but he didn't think anyone deserved this. He was afraid, for Feliciano as much as Lovino, since he knew the younger twin loved his ornery brother very much. Such a loss could mean a lot for Feliciano, even to the point where he would lose his house if Lovino couldn't work. Their grandfather made an income, of course, but Ludwig doubted it would be enough to support the two of them alone.

"He's… not doing well. He's in bad condition. N-not critical, but still not good." Antonio answered him, and Feliciano sniffled. Ludwig watched more tears sliding down the face he was so in love with.

"Well… what happened?" Ludwig knew that he'd been hit by a car, but the details had been left out.

A shuddery breath was drawn in by lungs that needed it. "He was with A-Antonio. And th-then they were just crossing the street, and there was a drunk driver, and he pushed Antonio out of the way, but he got h-hit, and his he-ead hit the ground an-nd-" Feliciano couldn't finish, so Antonio said the rest.

"I… called an ambulance that picked him up. Then I drove by their house and got Feliciano," Ludwig paused to strangely note the accented way he spoke. "Now… we're just waiting until they say he's in stable condition." His voice broke on the last word, as if he believed it would never happen. It had to; It _had_ to! Ludwig was worried, too.

He pulled a crying Feliciano to his side, and watched as Antonio resumed his pacing.

* * *

It was several hours later. Now the three of them were in an elevator.

They had been notified that since Lovino's condition had become stable, they could visit him, although he'd have to stay until his injuries were healed; He'd received a massive blow to the head from the concrete that had fractured his skull and given him a major concussion. He'd broken his right tibia (one of the bones in your shin, just above your ankle), and his left ankle from the impact of the car. His right wrist had been broken in two places from where he'd reached it out to try and shield himself instinctively from the oncoming vehicle. Gashes marked his knees, elbows, legs and shoulders where he'd skidded along the concrete; he'd lost a lot of blood from them.

The hospital staff notified the three of them that he'd been moved to the sixth floor of the hospital where he'd be staying in a single-patient room. Feliciano had called their grandfather, who said he'd call their insurance company immediately. He said he'd come up to the hospital later.

They'd reached the sixth floor, where immediately they jumped out of the chrome-covered elevator, looking around for 6-210, the room number on the piece of paper Feliciano was holding. The place was eerily quiet, other than their loud footsteps and the beeping of machines in the rooms they passed.

They finally found the room, opening the door to find Lovino lying in a bed with a nurse standing over him, checking his IV fluid. The medication in the clear bag above him was almost certainly painkillers. Lovi himself was unconscious, his dark brown hair looking greasy and disheveled. His slight form was outlined by the blanket, limbs bent awkwardly. His right leg was elevated by a sling that hung over the bed.

Antonio raced to the bed, mouth open, but he didn't say anything. He was clearly blaming himself, especially after seeing what a state Lovino was truly in. They'd just waited several hours; Ludwig now realized what _guilt_ Antonio must have been going through. Feliciano rushed to the bedside as well, falling to his knees as the nurse finished what she was doing. She gave a sad look to the boy laying in the bed, and a weak nod to Ludwig, who was standing near the door as she walked out.

Feli was nearly in tears again, though he'd been prepared for what he was seeing. He didn't touch Lovino, besides curling his fingers in the white sheet that draped off the side of the bed.

They'd spent a while like that, thinking their own thoughts in silence, almost worlds apart from each other. Feliciano had worried about how lonely he'd be at home while Lovino was in the hospital. Sure, sometimes his brother was cruel to him, but he now realized how much he really would miss him. He provided at least some solace, some company, in his otherwise estranged life.

Later, it had been determined through the thick silence that coated the room that Lovino wasn't going to wake up until at least the next day. Ludwig didn't think he could bear watching Feliciano so sad, watching the unconscious body of his injured brother, any longer, so he suggested they come back another time, perhaps when Lovino woke up. They'd have the hospital call Feliciano's house and notify him when Lovino was conscious.

"Feliciano… It's getting late. We should go." Ludwig said, laying a hand on Feliciano's shoulder. "It's going to be alright,"

Feliciano looked back at the bed, and then at Antonio, who still stared at the boy's injured form. "I… I guess so. Antonio, are you going to go home? Ludwig can take me back to my house."

The seventeen-year-old frowned at the thought. He _would_ have to leave at some point, and he supposed that since they'd been here for almost an hour, and visiting hours would be over at some point as well. "I'll be fine. I'm going to stay with him for a while longer." He looked weakly at Feliciano and Ludwig.

Ludwig helped the red-haired boy up off the floor where he sat, then pulled him by the hand toward the door. "Keep in touch, Antonio. Let us know if you hear anything, or if he wakes up."

Antonio nodded, agreeing to do so. "I'll see you guys later."

The two of them stepped out into the hallway of the sixth floor, now heading back to the elevators. Everything in the hospital smelled a bit like antiseptic. They passed many closed doors with frosted glass panes in them, some showing yellow reading-lights through them, and some being pitch dark. The sun had already set. It must've been around 8:00 at night by then. "I'm… really sorry this happened." Ludwig said.

"It's… alright. It's got to happen to somebody, right?" Feliciano sounded tired. "I just… really hope he's gonna be okay."

"Me too."

The two of them stepped into the chrome elevator, a bit surprised to see someone else going down in it. There, standing in the back corner of the hospital elevator on the sixth floor, was Alfred Jones. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his brown bomber-jacket, rocking back on his heels and leaning on the chrome handrail on the side of the elevator. He seemed a bit serene as he looked around, eyeing the two of them as if pretending they didn't know him. "What floor ya' going to?"

Ludwig found himself speechless for a moment, pausing before saying "Uh, one." It was in a voice he wouldn't quite describe as sounding like his. He stood between the cowering Feliciano in one corner and Alfred in the other as the dirty-blonde leaned forward to tap the circular button with the number one on it.

Ludwig couldn't help but notice that the button for floor four was already pressed. Must've been where Alfred was going. Sure enough, the elevator only moved a few more seconds before slowing to a stop and opening up to a sign for the fourth floor.

_Floor 4, Cancer Treatment Center_

The door closed after Alfred got out, leaving a confused Ludwig and a relieved Feliciano going down in the polished chrome elevator.

* * *

Alfred F. Jones stepped from the elevator and onto the fourth floor of the hospital, into the familiar hallways that always smelled like antiseptic, cough syrup, and lilac scented laundry detergent. He whistled a quiet tune as he nearly strutted down the hall, passing dark rooms with tired tenants contained within. He approached a door that looked the same as all the others- light stained wood with frosted glass windows and a label that said the number just under the windowpane. The number on this door was the same as always; 4-271.

He didn't knock before entering; he'd seen a light on the inside that showed that the occupant of the room was awake. He was probably reading a book or something. Maybe he was just sitting awake.

"Mattie!" He exclaimed, perhaps a little too loud.

"Oh, hey Al!" Matthew's voice was nearly a whisper. Alfred came over to the bed, sweeping his brother up in a huge hug. Matthew squirmed a bit in the embrace, but ended up hugging back.

"Ehehe, did ya' miss me? Sorry I didn't come to visit yesterday." Alfred had draped his arm over his little brother, smiling at him.

"Ah, yeah! Of course I did." Matthew replied, still quietly. "It gets really boring here all day alone."

"Oh, yeah! I brought you a present." Alfred pulled a brown paper bag out of the pocket of his bomber jacket, handing it to Matthew.

Opening the crinkled paper, Matthew gasped a little, and Alfred chuckled. "Al, you're not supposed to give this stuff to me!" The bag was full of candy, everything from sour patch kids all the way to sweet-tarts.

"If you can stomach this, I'll bring you more. A lot more." Alfred tempted him.

Matthew scowled. It had been harder to eat lately, since his chemotherapy had just started again. The last time he'd had chemotherapy had been several years prior, when he was twelve. Now fifteen, he'd grown out his hair nice and long, and he'd gained weight and gotten taller, the cancer in his immune system had come back. He'd been throwing up sometimes from the chemo nowadays, and he was going to lose his soft blonde hair again, but that's okay. As long as he has a chance of getting cured, it was worth it.

For a while, Alfred had been convinced that there'd been a mistake. He'd refused to believe that his little brother had Leukemia. He'd argued with hospital staff, made them go over scans and samples and x-rays again and again, and there was no denying it. The tests were positive. It was now a matter of severity, and it seemed they'd caught the cancer in an intermediate stage. It wasn't too late yet.

Nowadays, Alfred visited his brother almost every day. The only days he didn't were his work days, where he helped foot their parents' bill for the hospital, and also for bills at their home.

He set the brown paper bag to the side. "… Fine. I'll try to eat it. I'm gonna have to hide it from the nurses, though! They're health freaks, I tell you!"

"Dude, but aren't you the _master_ of that?" Alfred chuckled.

"Ahaha, seems so."

The two of them laughed a little more about old jokes regarding hiding things from the nurses; once, when he was thirteen, he'd hidden four bags of Swedish fish that Alfred had brought him in his mattress.

"So, uh. The doctors said today that I'd get my results kinda soon. Not really soon, but within the next month definitely." Matthew approached the subject lightly with Alfred.

It seemed that Alfred didn't really want to hear the test results. The last thing he wanted was for his brother to be told the worst news of all. He didn't want to go through that himself. "… yeah. That's good." He dismissed the subject with a reluctant agreement.

A tense moment passed between the brothers, but Alfred didn't make it last long.

"Yo, do you wanna battle Pokémon, bro?" Alfred challenged Matthew.

"Hell yeah!" Matthew reached over into the drawer in the bedside table for his black DS Lite, while Alfred fished his white one out of his pocket. "I've been working on this one, I trained my Swampert up to level 85!" He popped a Pokémon sapphire cartridge into the DS.

Alfred turned on his white DS, selecting the Pokémon ruby that was already in the port. "Aww, hell no! I got my Sceptile up to level 100!"

"Dude, everyone knows that Swampert beats Sceptile ten to one!" Matthew squabbled with his brother.

The two of them were peaceful, even in the midst of their game. Matthew didn't have to move his weak body, and Alfred's mind was put more at ease knowing his brother was happy.

They heard footsteps coming down the hall, then receding as they talked. Probably just a nurse coming to make sure all visitors were gone; Alfred had become an exception over the past half-year, appearing nearly every day for as long as he could. He could pretty much stay as late as he wanted as long as he didn't cause a fuss. But, unfortunately, that's what he tended to do anyways, so he ended up being kicked out more than once.

Not tonight, however. Tonight, the boys quietly enjoyed each other's company, together, as brothers.


	9. Chapter 9

I had to force this one out last night. I was up really late doing it... Hope you like it. I don't even know.

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They came into the hospital again the next day, Feliciano dressed in a sweater to protect himself against the wind, and Ludwig donning a long dark blue coat. It was starting to get cold out, early November cold biting through sweatshirts and demanding that coats and scarves be worn. They headed up to the room Lovino was staying in, now familiar with where they were going.

Feliciano's facial expression remained the same for the entire elevator ride. He was shaken, and shocked that something like that could even have happened just the day before. He'd spent the night alone with his grandfather the previous night, watching re-runs of old TV shows and listening to his i-pod. He listened to all of Lovino's music; they shared an i-tunes account on Lovino's laptop. Feliciano liked bands like Foster the People and Starfucker, while Lovi usually listened to Placebo. Actually, both twins liked to listen to Starfucker. They liked all of each other's music, generally. He'd been listening to Placebo that night, thinking it fit the mood to a point. Mellow tunes like theirs were bound to.

Feliciano and Ludwig arrived on the 6th floor, dragging their feet down the hallway to room 6-210. It was around 2:50 in the afternoon; Ludwig had woken up around 10:00 and made himself some sausage for breakfast—well, brunch. He'd called Feli at this point, concerned about the redhead's emotional well-being. He'd seemed pretty shaken the previous day, out of deep concern for his brother, and with good reasoning, too. The brunette's condition seemed worse as they entered the room that Sunday; he looked pale and thin lying under the white sheets. There was another IV dripping into his arm, with more clear liquid in it that was labeled with a bunch of numbers. They stepped into the room, surprised to see Antonio sitting in a chair near the bed; he looked up as they entered, standing.

"Oh. Um, h-hey there. I got here a while ago." Antonio said. Feliciano was shocked, even. He hadn't expected to see the senior at all, especially so soon.

They'd left him here yesterday in the same spot; it was like he hadn't even moved at all. He had, of course, in reality. He'd gone home and slept horribly; there were awful circles under his eyes and he rubbed the sleep out of them. He'd had nightmares, dreams about horrible things happening to him. In one of the dreams (the one he'd have to say hit home the most) he was blamed by Lovino for the accident. He'd screamed at him 'It's your fucking fault!' and cradled his broken wrist like it was something to be coddled.

Antonio had woken in a terrible cold sweat, and hadn't slept again. He'd stayed up reading, trying to tell himself that it was just a dream, just a dream. Lovino wouldn't blame him; would he? Maybe he would. It was him, in fact, that was in the way of the car. Lovino had _pushed him out of the way_, had _saved_ him! But that meant Lovino had gotten hurt for him.

He looked back down at the brunette laying on the white sheets, wondering if he'd forgive him. Hell, if he'd _remember_ him. He'd had a fractured skull and a major concussion; there was no telling how much he'd remember, how he'd recover. The predicted he'd make a full recovery, but what if they were wrong? What if his ankle sets badly, and he never walks again? What if he got brain damage and his mental capacity was skewed? Antonio worried himself further.

Why did he have to ask Lovino out on that day? He'd been so close to telling Lovi his feelings, and something like this happens? It was like fate was _trying_ to hurt Antonio; first toying with his emotions, making him go through a horrible insecure period of time where he wasn't sure if he was _really_ in love with Lovino, then as soon as he's about to make a move, something tragic like this happens. Well, not _definitely_ tragic. They certainly hoped not.

"I… really need to be there when he wakes up." Antonio explained to Ludwig and Feliciano. "I feel like… I need to apologize. He got hurt because of me."

Feliciano was mostly silent, standing beside Ludwig with his hands in his pockets. "No… Antonio, it's not your fault."

"Yeah, it's that damn drunk driver's fault." Ludwig stated adamantly. He'd been filled in on the minor details later the previous night by Antonio via text. He didn't want Antonio to blame himself either; it really was no one's fault but that irresponsible driver, as the two boys had been crossing at a crosswalk when the light was red. The car had sped completely through the light, right at them.

Antonio shifted. "I guess. I still feel responsible, somehow! There were things I could have done to prevent this altogether. I was with him when it happened. I just want to see him when he wakes up." It was an entirely realistic possibility (although unspoken) that this would take quite a bit of time. The boy had trauma to the head, and his body had shut down into a coma-like state. The nurses had him on antibiotics and a lot of pain medication as well, so his body was drug-filled and weak. He now slept on, not even shifting the slightest bit as they conversed in the room.

Ludwig had gone home that previous night and tried to sleep the best he could. He'd texted Antonio for a very long time, the brunette giving details on the incident and updates on the health of the often ornery twin. He'd also texted Feliciano, offering to drive him that morning to the hospital, and maybe to go out to lunch or dinner, whatever time it was then, afterwards. (Ludwig was concerned he'd sound like he was asking Feliciano out on a date, but it probably hadn't even crossed the red-head's mind. He _was_ presumably straight, correct?)

Feliciano had accepted, and here the two of them were, making a stop that would probably become routine after school if Lovi wasn't discharged soon. It didn't appear that he'd be coming home any time soon, anyways. He was now wearing a light blue hospital gown under the sheets.

"E-even so. I still want to apologize. See, I'm… er, I was going to… ask him out." Antonio seemed hesitant in admitting this, a pause taking over the room.

"Eeehh?! You were?" Feliciano exclaimed, clearly surprised. Antonio flinched at the reply.

"I… yeah. I was." He turned away slightly, sounding suddenly dejected.

"That's so cool!" Feliciano's reply was clear this time, now obviously positive. Antonio's head snapped up, a hesitant smile appearing on his face. "I hope he says yes, Antonio."

Ludwig stood in the midst of the conversation, feeling suddenly awkward. He was a bit surprised to hear him say it like that, but it had been a little obvious from Ludwig's point of view. He felt like he was in Antonio's position from the other side He felt himself slightly jealous of Antonio, gaining the support of the younger twin almost immediately. . Lovino didn't even like him at all. Lovino hated him, even. He'd made up a resolve in his mind to ask Feli out at _some_ point, but just… not _now._

Antonio looked relieved. "I'm glad, Feli. Thank you." He looked back to the brunette unconscious on the hospital bed, wondering when he'd wake up.

They visited for a while, Antonio telling the two of them what the nurses had told him earlier; Lovino was going to be unconscious for some time, most definitely. They would need to keep him in the hospital until he woke up, then a few days after that to make sure he's alright.

They talked for a bit, letting the conversation drift over to school, plans for after high school, etcetera. Ludwig complained about his car getting low gas mileage, and Antonio sympathized with him. Feliciano whined that he didn't have a car in the first place. At one point, a nurse came in to check on Lovino, changing his IV fluid to something supposedly weaker. She greeted them kindly, and they continued their conversation on cars, and how if Feliciano did in fact have one, he'd probably fall asleep behind the wheel with his laziness. Feliciano had whined, saying his afternoon naps were sometimes the only thing keeping him going.

At some point, Feliciano and Ludwig decided that it was time to go. They'd been there only about an hour and a half, but it was time they got out to the restaurant they'd planned on going to in the first place. They said goodbye to Antonio, who pulled out his homework and started doing it even while sitting by the bed. Ludwig pulled the door shut after them.

They shuffled back down the hallway toward the elevator, getting in an empty one this time. Yesterday's memory finally came back to Ludwig; he'd seen Alfred Jones get off the elevator on the cancer treatment floor. Certainly Alfred wasn't an outpatient himself, was he? No, he couldn't be… He would have told people, there would be rumors that everyone was guaranteed to hear. He'd lose his hair—wouldn't he? Wasn't that one of the side effects of the treatment?

No, there would have to be someone here that he was visiting. Ludwig wondered for a moment just how often Alfred came here. Just how long had he known someone with cancer? It sounded like a terrible prospect to Ludwig, anyways.

Feli and he reached the first floor, stepping out into the lobby and chatting idly about their favorite car companies; Feliciano liked the sleek Italian sports cars, while Ludwig liked trucks and German engineering. They stepped out into the parking lot, watching as a blue car pulled into the lot on the far side. They walked to the left of the doors towards Ludwig's gray car, climbing in the front seats as Feli still ranted about how Italian sports cars are the best.

It would take a while to get to the restaurant, the hospital being a bit farther away than they would like. It was about a twenty minute drive from Ludwig's neighborhood, so that meant a solid fifteen minutes from the downtown area in their town where the restaurant was. The place was a small family restaurant; owned by some friends of the family. They served rather good food, and it was at a decent price.

They enjoyed their ride downtown, while Feliciano fiddled with the radio and settled on a loud pop song which he sang along with; a song about hitting on a girl and getting rejected. Ludwig had never heard it before, and didn't know the title _or_ the artist. Feliciano's singing voice ended up being pretty on tune, not wavering at the high notes like expected. He wasn't exactly surprised, as the red-head seemed to be good only for sleeping, eating, and making noise, he ought to be good at it.

They pulled into the parking lot and Ludwig quickly snagged a spot in the tiny lot. There were only about six other cars, some probably belonging to employees. One car Ludwig recognized as belonging to a friend of his dad's. They walked into the building through the heavy push door, walking past a gumball machine to wait to be seated. Feliciano looked around, taking in the place.

It was getting kind of dim inside as the sun set behind the horizon; it was truly becoming winter, wasn't it? The sky was getting darker earlier every day now. Tables with placemats were scattered throughout the place, sitting on the dark carpeting. The walls were painted a dark red-purple, almost a wine shade, creating an even darker space. Feliciano imagined the lights above the tables would come on at any moment now.

Ludwig and Feli selected a table, away from the few other patrons in the restaurant. They were greeted by a server, who took their orders for drinks. Ludwig ordered a water and Feliciano wanted a Cherry Coke.

"So. Um, do you remember seeing Alfred Jones in the elevator yesterday?" Ludwig asked on a whim. Maybe Feliciano had heard more than him.

"Ah, yes. I do, ve?" Feliciano scratched his head. "I wonder what he was doing there."

"Well, did you see what floor he got off on?"

Feliciano shook his head. "I wasn't paying attention."

"The cancer treatment floor."

Feli's jaw dropped at this. "Ve!? Are you sure you didn't just look at another floor, or maybe he got out on the wrong one?"

Ludwig shook his head. "No, I'm sure it was the cancer treatment floor. I don't think he has cancer though, somebody would know about it. I think maybe he knows someone there who has cancer?"

Feli thought about it for a minute. Alfred was a _huge_ bully, so wasn't it good that he was hurting? Why wasn't he happy? "That's…" Feliciano couldn't think of a word to describe it.

"…good? Bad?" the blonde questioned. "I thought he was a bully to you."

"No—I mean, he _is_, but I just… I don't want _anyone_ to have cancer! That's awful!"

At this time, the server came back with their drinks, giving Ludwig a steady look while setting down a cool glass of water for him. She took their orders, Feliciano having one of the restaurant's signature sandwiches, and Ludwig ordered a cut of beef. He'd had it before, it was incredible here.

"Ah. Sorry." Feliciano apologized. "I was speaking kind of loudly ahaha. But what do you think? Do you… are you friends with Alfred?" The last question was more of a plea than anything else.

Ludwig shook his head in a hurry, looking into the big brown eyes. "N-no! I just didn't think… you'd say anything like that. If I were you, I'd have a bad grudge against him…" He trailed off.

Feliciano looked a bit estranged at this, confused with his own self. "I guess I do have sort of a grudge against him, but I could never do anything about it anyways, so why have one in the first place?" He sighed. "I guess that doesn't make sense, ve?"

Ludwig's brows knitted together. "No, I guess it does. It's better logic than most people have, in fact."

Feliciano shrugged. "I'd rather nap peacefully than hold a grudge, wouldn't you?"

This conversation would spark much thought from Ludwig in the future. What was the purpose of holding grudges, anyways? To retaliate? No… maybe to keep the person at bay from you. Maybe to desire revenge someday, but most people never got it anyways.

The server showed up with their food after a few more minutes of waiting. They thanked the server, who still gave them strange glances.

"What do you think of that whole group, anyways? You know, Ivan and Alfred, Francis, Arthur, Yao…" Feliciano rattled off the names he could remember.

Ludwig thought for a moment before carefully replying, "I guess they need to think about things a bit more. They shouldn't take things out on you. You didn't do anything to them, unless I'm missing something here." He took a bite of his beef. "I don't like them much, though. Too much noise. Especially Francis and Arthur; always arguing."

Feliciano seemed content with this answer, and they moved on to less serious topics, like the new episode of Doctor Who. Feliciano had seen it the previous day, and Ludwig had yet to watch it. Ludwig adamantly refused spoilers, while Feli wanted to tell him what happened _so badly_!

They finished their meal, waiting for the bill to come. They continued the conversation as Ludwig stealthily paid for both their meals before Feliciano could see. He insisted on being a polite gentleman in this, didn't he? Always a stickler for rules.

Feliciano suggested they walk around a little downtown before most of the shops close; he'd wanted to buy a book from the used books store down the street from the restaurant, but he hadn't had the chance. Now that he did have it he figured, _Hell, why not take advantage?_ He grabbed Ludwig by the elbow and pulled him down the sidewalk before he could protest.

The sky was dark, and the streetlamps were on. The black pavement was bathed in yellow light from the old streetlamps, one of them in front of a jewelry store flickering. It was probably only around 7:00, but since the sky got dark so fast nowadays, the sun set at around 5:00. There was nobody on the street at all, the whole town seeming empty.

Ludwig listened to the evening sounds; their footsteps, a distant car horn, the voice of a man in one of the buildings nearby. He looked down to his left, to Feliciano.

The red-head was facing forward, looking into the buildings ahead of them. He looked absolutely stunning; his hair ruffled into a perfect mess, a wayward curl in the waves of red-brown. His turtleneck opened wide enough that his smooth collarbones were visible, pale skin glowing in the dim light. His amber eyes shined with the reflection of the streetlamps. Ludwig didn't realize he'd been staring until Feliciano looked up, stopping their slow pace of walking and turning slightly towards the blonde.

"L-Ludwig, is something wrong?" His voice was quiet.

"I… n-no, nothing's wrong. I'm sorry. It's… nothing." Ludwig sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

"Ve, something is bothering you!" He pouted slightly, biting his lip, and Ludwig thought he just looked so _kissable_.

Before he knew what he was doing, he'd grabbed Feliciano's shoulders with a step towards him. In that moment, the world disappeared for Ludwig. All conscious thought had fled his mind, disappearing into the darkest corners of that dim evening. Their eyes met, amber to blue, for just a moment. Feliciano seemed confused at this, about to say something again, and then Ludwig was kissing him, lightly, innocently, holding the sleeves of Feliciano's coat.

Feliciano was shocked. He just couldn't move, for an instant. He stood there and let Ludwig kiss him, dumbfounded. The world spun, panic working its course through Feliciano's mind. Then he hunched his shoulders and reached out his arms, pushing Ludwig away. What… what _was_ this!? With just the extension of Feliciano's arms, the two broke apart, Ludwig letting go of Feliciano's sleeves.

Both of them inhaled, gasping, two pairs of wide eyes meeting again.

Feliciano stumbled backwards, turned and ran. He spun on his heel and took off as fast as he could back the way they'd come.

Ludwig was almost ready to run after him, but his feet were nearly glued to the concrete in utter disbelief of himself. _You're an idiot, a fucking idiot. What the hell was that? You IDIOT._

He heard rapid, running footsteps receding from him in the quiet night air.

_You fucked it up. Good job, you fucked it up._

* * *

__Hope you like it? I need some sleep...


	10. Chapter 10

DEAR LORD SOMEBODY PLEASE TAKE THIS OFF MY HANDS. It took forever! I would sit down and write a couple hundred words and then wander away because I had no ideas for this chapter;;;;

thanks for reading, please review :T

* * *

Feliciano's eyes peeled open, the light flooding into the room blinding him momentarily. His forearms stuck to the sticky surface of the table. He peeled them off, leaving red, sharp marks on his arms where he'd been leaning on them. He didn't know where he was, really. He felt himself sitting in a chair, leaning on a table; oh, that's right.

He suddenly remembered what had happened that night, memories flooding into his mind- a dim street, a flickering street lamp, the deep timber of a voice next to him; one that had stuttered out a string of words, and then changed completely. He remembered the feeling of hands on his shoulders, nearly burning into his skin. He saw the flash of blue eyes looking into his own, fixating on him and making the world seemingly meaningless for just a moment. He remembered the feeling of soft lips on his.

He stopped himself, looking around groggily. He was in his own kitchen, sleeping at the round wooden table after running inside last night. He could hear the refrigerator running behind him, the hum of the appliance ever-present in the small space of the kitchen. His shoes were still on his feet as he slid them across the tile, going to stand up. He was wobbly when he did stand, nearly tripping into the counter in front of him.

His hair was a wreck; his face wasn't anything short of disgusting. He looked disheveled, like he'd crawled out of a hole rather than woke up at his kitchen table. He had a slight headache.

He nearly fell to the floor when he realized; it was Monday. Oh, god. It was already noon, it wasn't like he was going to miss much more of school than he already had. Lovino would still be in the hospital, and their grandfather was probably sleeping at the time, spending more time in bed than he did out of it. He would have missed… shit, he'd already missed his science test. Well, it wasn't like he was prepared for it anyways. He would have failed nonetheless.

He reasoned with himself that he deserved a day off. After all the things he'd put up with last week, and this weekend… he really did need one. His teachers would probably be lenient after hearing that his brother was in the hospital; he could probably just use Lovi as an excuse by saying he was visiting him that morning.

Feliciano thought back to the previous night again. Why had Ludwig _done_ that? Had he been so blind—was that what Ludwig had talked to him for in the first place, that night at homecoming? Questions flashed in his mind, making his headache come back a bit. He'd basically come to a conclusion: either Ludwig was in love with him, or he was just _confused_. Yeah, that was probably it. Confused.

He wasn't even gay! No, Feliciano was straight. Straight as an arrow. Straight as a ruler. Straight as the pope. Nobody was gonna tell him otherwise. Feli loved to flirt with girls, right? That must prove it, then. He was damn good at it, too. He could charm women very well with a wink or a wave of his hand.

… right?

Well, Ludwig _was_ kind of a handsome guy, in a completely straight and totally non-objective viewpoint. Er, you know. He was physically attractive, within that definition, and he was also, just kind of okay to be around, so he _guessed_ that could be attractive. But not to him. Or, maybe he was attractive to him, just in a straight way.

Ugh, it was just the entirely wrong moment for him to be going through this kind of insecurity. What had he even been thinking…?

He wanted to go to the hospital; to see Lovino for a moment, even if his older twin couldn't give him advice. All the brunette could do was try to stay alive, and stay well. He seemed to be stable enough, with a regular heartbeat, and regular breathing, and regular blood flow, but that didn't stop Feliciano from worrying. The red-head was scared for his brother. Anyone you love being in the hospital is scary, he imagined, but the fact that Lovino was _still_ unconscious was even more terrifying. He'd been in this coma for three days now, and Feliciano wondered what it would be like if Lovino never woke up. He would be alone with his neglectful grandfather; away from any kind of regular contact. Sure, Lovino could be… _out of control_, but that didn't change the fact that Feliciano loved his brother. If Lovino… didn't pull through… he wondered what he'd do.

He'd probably end up doing something dumb. He'd probably hurt himself, do something so horribly dumb that Lovino would smack him upside the head and scold him for it, and then pull him close and offer to make the pasta for dinner that night. It had happened before; Lovino had comforted him when he most needed it, but he generally didn't like to get close to anyone. He'd distanced himself; put up walls and boundaries that Feliciano found he must respect.

But what if Lovi never _did_ come home? It… was a possibility. A very bad possibility. He decided he didn't want to think about it. He wanted his brother to just be okay already. Just to wake up and say "surprise!" and say he was just pretending he was hurt, that his skull was in one piece and his bones weren't cracked.

He dragged his heavy body up the old wooden stairs, turning to the door to his bedroom. He opened it, listening to the creaking, the doorknob cold in his uncertain hands. He flopped down onto his bed, not bothering to get under the blankets. He curled up, trying to nap off the stress.

God, god, forbid he have an identity crisis _right now_. _He was just kidding with me,_ Feliciano thought. _Obviously didn't mean anything… at all…_

Feliciano wondered if he wanted it to mean anything.

* * *

Ludwig's eyes darted to the clock again. He tried to control them, but there was no other thing in the room that captured his attention. He watched the red second hand tick painfully slowly around once again, as he'd watched it go thirty times before in that history classroom. The lesson had been blatantly ignored, a worksheet sitting in front of him that was supposed to be done already, but remained blank. There was only a few minutes left until school got out.

He'd been on edge that day, the day of his math test, that he'd pretty much failed it. He'd been shaky and unstable from a lack of sleep last night, and his concentration was sub-zero. It stressed him out even more, making him worried about his grades and putting more pressure on his shoulders. He doubted he'd even gotten a single problem right, and he'd already started to accept the fact. He cursed himself for being okay with that, but his fate was signed and sealed, and ready to be graded.

Feliciano hadn't come to school that day. Fuck, he'd screwed up. Badly, really.

He wondered why he'd kissed Feliciano in the first place, and determined that he'd only been weak in submitting to his intsticts like that. He should have waited, he should have…

He realized now that he wouldn't have done anything if he'd just allowed himself to think. Since he'd done it so idly, so on a whim, it had been thoughtless. And it had felt _good_, Feliciano's lips against his, but only for an instant. The red-head had torn away, taking Ludwig's beating heart with him.

The footsteps that carried Feliciano away were etched into his mind. He heard them echoing down the street, off the buildings on either side of him as he stood in the dark. Alone.

After he'd run away, Ludwig wondered whether it would have been a good idea to… you know, chase him. He figured, regrettably, that maybe it would have been a good idea. But his feet wouldn't move, that night, his heart wouldn't stop pounding, and there was a tightness in his chest. He thought maybe it was regret. Or love.

There was forty-nine seconds left in class. Forty-eight. Forty-seven.

Ludwig stacked his folders on top of his textbook, seeing kids next to him doing the same. The class was about to end, the last one for the day, and then he'd go home, and sit in his bedroom, and his mind wouldn't leave him alone, telling him what he'd done wrong, and, and-

Guh. He'd have to do this, wouldn't he. He'd have to go to Feliciano's house. To apologize.

The bell rang. Immediately, he heard lockers slamming and people talking as the kids ran into the hallways, himself included. He nearly dashed to his locker, opening it and dumping his books into his backpack. He snatched his coat and slammed the door. He took off at a brisk walk, towards the main hallway. It was flooded with people, loud and obnoxious, the air filled with toxic rumors and slews the way that only highschool students could fill it.

It was bus T that Ludwig boarded, remembering it was the bus Feliciano had introduced him to his brother on. There were only a few kids on it today, Francis alone in the back and Arthur sitting in the front. They'd probably been fighting; they'd been known for this sort of thing.

He sat down, feeling out of place. He'd only ridden this bus once, the time he'd been with people he knew. The bus started moving, and he felt his heart pound faster. What if this was a mistake? He'd probably get there, and Feliciano would refuse to speak to him. He'd done something unforgivable… Unnaceptable. He shifted in his seat. No, he thought, I need to apologize. Even if he doesn't accept it.

It was a few minutes later when the bus rolled to a halt just outside of Feli's neighborhood that the real nervousness set into Ludwig's head. He wondered if this was a good idea after all. He stepped out onto the concrete, not bothering to thank the bus driver. He'd forgotten, with all of the buzz in his head.

The bus started up again, door squeaking closed and a hum picking up as the wheels rolled, rubber sending pebbles skittering across the pavement. Ludwig stared down the long street, between the two rows of aging houses. He started walking, moving to the left side, where he walked in the street since sidewalks were absent. The grass between he and the houses was dead already, dark green and brown and yellow mixed together in a sign that snow was sure to come soon. The ground was damp from a cool rain that had fallen that morning. The soles of his black doc martens left footprints on what dry ground there was; a puddle had left the bottom of them wet.

He arrived in front of the old house that Feliciano had taken him to on that Tuesday before. Standing in the street, short of the small driveway, he reconsidered his decision a final time. It didn't take long for him to tell himself to do it anyways.

His legs moved more hesitantly now, his footstes more meaningful in their distances. The squares of the sidewalk seemed too large.

Ludwig was standing at the door, finally. His arm was heavy as he reached up to press the doorbell, his finger lingering on the button for a moment before forcing himself to press it anyways. A ringing sound resounded in the house.

He suddenly regretted all of this. It was like the text he'd sent after homecoming; after he'd pressed the button, he wondered what Feliciano would think of him. Would he hate him? Would he forget it? A brand new wave of nervousness washed over him.

He heard nothing inside the house. Not a single reaction, not a sound. The nervousness he felt bubbled up in his stomach and he felt like he was going to be sick. Maybe he should just go. Feliciano was probably just not answering the door because he never wanted to see Ludwig again. All of Ludwig's fears seemed to confirm themselves at that moment. He waited for a minute, before turning around to leave.

Then he heard the creak of the wooden door opening. Feliciano was right behind him, in the doorway, as Ludwig stood with one foot down on the steps to the sidewalk. The blonde looked over his shoulder at the door, scanning the red-head's expression.

He saw shock, that was evident. But in the eyes there was a kind of tiredness he hadn't seen in them before. There was a kind of confusion behind them. Feliciano's jaw had fallen slightly slack, and his eyes were wide. The amber didn't catch the light like Ludwig had known before.

Neither of them said anything for a moment. Ludwig turned the slightest bit on his heel, facing the door again, trying to think of something to say, something to do, apologize you idiot—

"I'm sorry." Feliciano nearly whispered, his voice cracking with tiredness.

Ludwig's eyes widened. "N-no! You don't… need to be sorry. It's my fault." He took two big, deep breaths. "That was… out of line. I'm so sorry." _I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry._ The line repeated in his head a dozen times.

It was Feliciano's turn to be surprised, not quite knowing what to say. "I… um. D-did you… mean anything… by it?" His voice was uncharacteristically quiet. His posture relaxed a little, and he moved his feet from inside to stand on the threshold. The door slid mostly shut behind him.

Ludwig felt heat creeping into his face. "I… wasn't thinking. Please, don't take it to heart. It didn't… mean anything." …_unless that's okay with you_.

"Ludwig…" Feliciano started, taking another step across the porch and toward the blonde. The door swung open just a crack, the inside of the dark house just visible. Ludwig was holding his breath, waiting to see what the red-head would do. _Fuck_, he must've looked flustered, or embarrassed, or _scared_, or maybe a mix of the three. Feliciano's bare feet made a sound against the stone porch as he took another step across it toward Ludwig.

"Maybe… It would be okay. For it to mean something."

The words echoed in Ludwig's mind. They were the loudest things in the universe, even when they were spoken quietly. They burned themselves into his memory like a fire in the cold November air. They were everything he'd dreamed to hear from this boy. He didn't believe it.

Soft hands were resting on Ludwig's shoulders as Feliciano stood just a step above him, and their eyes met. Ludwig's breath was caught in his throat, his heartbeat going too fast.

The corners of Feliciano's mouth turned up slightly, in a quiet, hesitant smile. "If that's… okay with you, ve?"

Then their lips connected, this time the action initiated by Feliciano. It wasn't an organized kiss, a bit sloppy and harsh, neither of them well-practiced. It was close-mouthed, innocent, but demanded affirmation. Ludwig jolted at the contact, but soon settled into the kiss with a feeling of relief blossoming from his stomach. A tingling appeared in his fingertips, happiness working its way though him.

"Y-yes. That's okay with me."

Feliciano took him by the hands and led him inside.

* * *

UGH PLEASE TAKE THIS FAR AWAY AND NEVER MAKE ME LOOK AT IT AGAIN

im so sorry i didn't update for a while, but this was truly awful to write. nothing good even really happened;;;;

please please review!


	11. Chapter 11

ch11

Well guys, here we are. I had this planned out from before I started the first chapter, so please pleeeaaaase don't blame me. I hope you like it :

* * *

It was hard to tell what day it was sometimes when he woke up. Matthew had learned this from staying in the hospital all this time; it didn't really matter what day it was, unless it was a Monday or a Thursday. Mondays and Thursdays were the days he got chemotherapy, which usually upset his stomach enough to stop him from eating. The days right after those were generally the worst, he recalled, and today was ironically a Tuesday. His stomach turned and his head spun, even while lying down. He stirred in his hospital bed, waking from a strangely uncomfortable sleep.

He sat up, ignoring the lightheadedness that he felt. Guh, he felt like he was gonna puke. Maybe he was, it had happened before. It was normal, even, on Tuesdays and Fridays. Chemo took a lot out of him, and not just his hair.

When his thoughts drifted to his hair, he lifted a weak arm from the bed sheets to run a hand through his blonde locks. A few stray blonde hairs pulled out with just his fingers brushing through it. His hair was nice and long from a long time free of chemotherapy, and now he was going to lose it all again? It wasn't fair. It just wasn't _fair_.

_Stop whining,_ he told himself. _It's just hair. It'll grow back next time you stop chemo. You'll see._

He still dreaded the thought of his head bald again, remembering how sick he was last time he looked like that. He was so thin and small you'd think you would break him just by touching him. He'd been so young, too, only sometimes so for Leukemia patients. Things like that don't happen to people like him. Things like that… shouldn't be possible. But alas, here he was. Too sick to even get out of the bed by himself. He'd recovered before, though, and he'd do it again. He'd even been able to go to school for almost all of middle school, and all of freshman year, before the sickness grabbed hold of him again.

It wasn't even as bad this time, or it seemed so. He'd only been coming to the hospital for about four months for treatment—he'd been an inpatient for three. Over the course of that time, however, he'd gotten thinner and lighter, and weaker, noticeably affected by his condition. Alfred hadn't stopped worrying about him since he'd shown the first signs of it early that summer, between freshman and sophomore years.

_That's right, Alfred should be coming down again today._ Matthew smiled. Alfred was always constantly worried about him, making sure the hospital was accommodating for him and making sure he always stayed in good spirits. Three months ago, when Matthew had become an inpatient, Alfred had heckled the nurses for his every whim, and now all of them were familiar with him. He was well known throughout the third floor, in fact. One of the nurses had called him attractive and that had sent a spiral of gossip flying through the staff; Matthew had told Al all of this, of course, and the two of them had a good laugh over it.

Matthew really realized now how much he loved his brother. When they were younger, they used to fight. Alfred had even thrown a baseball right into Matt's face, once, and given him an awful bloody nose. He'd gotten in trouble with their parents, of course, and Alfred had held a childish grudge against Matthew for a few days; it had even been funny to watch him sulk in his room. Only about a year and a half later, when he was six and Alfred was seven, he'd experienced the first signs of his sickness. He shook these thoughts off; it was a strange thing to remember, being so confused about why his parents were crying and why Alfred looked so suddenly guilty. What was wrong with him? What did they mean _sick?_

Of course, all of this had later on been explained to Matthew, and he'd spend a lot of time throughout elementary school in an out of the hospital. It was worst when he was in fourth grade; he'd been an inpatient with tri-weekly chemo for almost a year. (That was an awful year for him, too) It was starting to get bad again, and it scared Matthew a bit. It had gone away—he'd felt stronger than he had ever before when he was in middle school. But he supposed now it didn't matter anyways, whether he felt strong, if he was too weak to get out of his bed now.

A nurse entered the room, with a soft "Good morning, Matthew." He smiled at her in reply. "I'll bring in your breakfast soon, is that okay?"

"I… I feel nauseous today. I don't want anything." He declined.

She looked concerned. "It's alright if you can't eat anything right now, but I want you to try, okay? It's important that you get enough energy." One of the side effects of chemo was appetite loss, anyways, so this happened quite often. He was never a big eater in the first place, and now his small portions shrank even more.

She brought him a tray with some oatmeal, a carton of milk, some Jell-O, and a piece of toast. He thanked her. He poked at the oatmeal with a plastic spork, bringing a bit to his mouth, and reconsidered, setting it back down. His stomach felt positively _awful_, like the worst kind of stomachache. It was almost 9:30 in the morning now, and he decided to play Pokémon for a while whilst he waited for school to be out for Alfred. His older brother came to the hospital right after school on every day he didn't have work.

Playing the game often took some time out of his day; he liked to use it to pass the time. Matthew always had more time than he needed, sitting alone in the hospital with only nurses to talk to. I mean, the nurses were nice and all, but sometimes he wished he could go outside, and go to school, and have friends, and do stupid things like teenagers do, and meet a pretty girl and maybe fall in love. But no, he was stuck in this dumb hospital bed on legs like the Jell-O in the cup in front of him.

It was nearly around 11:00 when Matthew stopped playing the game, finally getting bored with it. He picked up a book from the bedside table. Alfred had brought it for him; it was some dumb action novel. He opened it anyways, desperate for something else to do. As his fingers brushed against the textured paper of the pages he found himself hopelessly hooked on the plot. It ended up being pretty good.

The nurse came and took his breakfast, noticing he didn't eat anything from it. She offered him lunch, and he declined politely.

He just needed to wait a few more hours before Alfred got there, then he'd have someone to talk to, something to do. He immersed himself in the book again, watching the clock every few minutes.

* * *

Alfred Jones had raced out of the school as fast as he could; his history class had been right next to the main exit, and he'd brought his backpack to that hour anyway so he didn't have to go to his locker. His tennis shoes pounded against the pavement as he ran into the parking lot. A lot of the time it was extremely difficult to get out of the school parking lot since there were so many cars, so if you wanted to get out in a timely fashion, you needed to _run._ And luckily, Alfred had been prepared to do just that after months of battling his way out of the traffic.

He jumped into his red car and turned the ignition immediately, the car revving to life as he tossed his backpack into the passenger's seat. He slammed the door after him, and backed out of his parking place. He seemed to be one of the first out of the school, and he drove quickly out onto the road from the school parking lot.

It took quite a while for him to get to the hospital, actually. The building was about 15 or 20 minutes away from the school. His parents had sent Matthew to that hospital since it was known for its good cancer treatment center. There was one hospital closer to the school, but it was actually harder to get to that hospital than this one.

He pulled into the parking lot there, parking his car and looking up into the windows of the building. He could see that one of the window curtains was pulled closed on the fourth floor, and he knew it was probably Matthew trying to nap or something.

He walked casually into the building, simply waving to the receptionist and she signed him in. In his regular visits it had proven tiresome to sign in every time, and he'd met the woman who worked there many times as well, so she already knew his name and the room number he was visiting.

Taking the elevator upstairs, he arrived at Matthew's room quickly. He knocked loudly on the door, making sure the probably drowsy boy could hear him, before he entered the room. Matthew was sitting on the bed in his usual spot, reading a book with a small lamp next to him. The book was the novel Alfred had forgotten over here—It was his English assignment, but that was alright if his brother wanted to read it. He could always just get another copy.

"Heeeey, Mattie! How're you doin'?" Alfred chimed, excited to see him. He nearly jumped onto the bed, encircling him in a big hug, and then relaxing into the pillows next to his younger brother.

"Mmmm." Matthew's voice wavered. "Not so g-good, today. I'm kind of nauseous."

Alfred frowned. "Aww, dude. I forgot it was Tuesday again. I should've brought you something, huh?" He wrapped a warm arm around the smaller boy.

"N-no, it's fine Alfred. I just… ugh—" he stood up suddenly, pushing the white sheets off of him and dropping the book onto the mattress. He nearly fell over, and Alfred rushed to support him. It was clear to the older twin now that the nausea he was experiencing had escalated into puking. Matthew quickly took a few steps into the bathroom, falling to his knees over the toilet with two rapid thuds. Alfred pulled his hair back as he wretched, rubbing calming circles into his shoulder blades.

"Aww, Mattie. Dude…" Alfred took on a sympathetic tone as Matthew heaved again, clearly feeling awful in general. After he was sure Matthew had stopped puking, Alfred grabbed a glass of water and a few tissues for his brother to wash the disgusting taste out of his mouth.

Matthew sat on the ground and took deep breaths. His stomach was tied in a knot and he felt lightheaded. He wished he didn't have to have chemotherapy, then took the thought back. If he didn't have chemo, he probably wouldn't be where he was today. He probably wouldn't have been alive that day without it. He should be grateful.

"Come on hot-shot. Let's get you back to bed. Feelin' any better? At all?" Alfred questioned, wondering if throwing up helped anything at all. Unfortunately, it didn't. He didn't feel any difference. Alfred slung his arm around his own shoulders and carried him all the way out of the bathroom and to the hospital bed.

"Nnm… Not really." Matthew mumbled. "Feelin' awful still."

Alfred felt ready to cry. God, why did it have to be Matthew with Leukemia? Why couldn't it be some other kid? Mattie was too good for this, too kind and good. Hell, Alfred would even give up his own position to be in Matthew's place. He just wanted to see his little brother healthy again.

Alfred set Matthew down on the bed and pulled the covers up to his waist, sitting down next to him on the bed. He set the book on the nightstand where it had been originally. Matthew sunk down into the pillows, breathing deep breaths and trying not to concentrate on his stomachache.

They stayed like that for a while, just Matthew breathing and Alfred petting his hair, telling him to relax a little and he'll feel better. Golden strands came loose in Alfred's fingers and he felt even worse. Soon he was just sitting there, sort of staring at Matthew.

Soon, however, a doctor came into the room; a male doctor, one in a white coat with an official-looking nametag that said _Dr. Schoenburger_. He carried a clipboard and was followed by two worried-looking nurses. Alfred felt that this couldn't be good.

"What is it?" He asked abruptly, perhaps rudely.

"We'd like to speak to Matthew for a moment, sir." Strangely formal. Alfred's throat seemed to close up.

Alfred nodded, shaking Matthew's shoulder slightly. "Mattie, wake up. Somebody's here."

The younger brother's eyes cracked open, and he scooted back in order to lean against the headboard of the bed. He looked over to the middle-aged doctor, Dr. Schoenburger. The nurses fidgeted behind him; one of them whispered something into the other's ear. "W-what is it, doctor?" Matthew asked, suddenly apprehensive.

"We have already contacted your parents. Your… test results are in." The distain in the doctor's voice stopped Alfred's heart.

"O-oh. Really. Wh-what do they say?" Alfred heard the same distain in his brother's voice.

_No. No no no no no no NO NO NO _NO.

This wasn't happening. This was a dream.

"We're afraid the results of the tests we took came back positive for the final stages of Leukemia."

This was a _DREAM._

Matthew started crying. Alfred felt hot tears rolling down his cheeks and his eyes burned as he looked up at the somber doctor's face.

"We estimate you have about four months to live."

There was a lengthy pause in the room. No one made a sound, save Matthew, who was beyond consolation, shaking and sobbing, curling in on his knees as his whole body trembled. Alfred could feel the bed shake beneath him. However, Alfred didn't have an immediate reaction.

The information settled in a few seconds later, when his mind started screaming all at once; no, no no NO this couldn't be happening! It had been so long; He'd fought so _hard_ already! He'd never wake up on his sixteenth birthday, he'd never travel the world, he'd never own a cat, or go skydiving, or go to an aquarium, or join a band, he'd never kiss someone in the rain, he'd never—

"N-no. No, no. That's not right!" Alfred snapped. "That _can't be right!"_

He could hear Matthew weeping behind him. It was a pitiful sound; squeaking, panicked sobs. He shook harder, and wailed in grief. Waves of anger washed through him. How could this _happen?! _Bad things like this don't happen to good people. Bad things like this don't happen to _Mattie._

"You all just don't know what you're talking about! Mattie is fine!" Alfred grew louder. "He's _fine! HE's FINE!"_ He felt more hot trails of tears dripping off his chin.

The doctor just looked at him. "Calm down now, son. We've done all we can. We're still trying our bes-"

"_I DON'T GIVE A DAMN!"_ he roared, the doctor taking a step back. "_LEAVE, YOU BASTARD!"_

The middle-aged man seemed to resign to Alfred's demands, accommodating his request by ushering the nurses out before him. He stopped just as he was going to leave the room, his sad eyes meeting Alfred's hysterical ones for a moment as he said, "I'm so sorry."

The door clicked shut.

Alfred broke down, collapsing onto his knees by the side of the bed. He clutched at the sheets and buried his face in the mattress, salty tears leaving wet spots in the fabric.

"Mattie." He choked out.

He looked up to see eyes filled with fear and despair. Eyes that belonged to his brother, ones that he'd no longer see for the rest of his life in _four short months._

"Al." Matthew's quiet voice was hoarse.

Alfred climbed onto the bed, gripping his brother's hospital gown tight as they both embraced, and as they both cried.

* * *

DSASKAJSLADJGDAgda;sklgsadkg

PLEASE REVIEW, BUT DON'T BE UPSET WITH ME AHHH


	12. Chapter 12

Ahhhh lordy more late updates. This is waaaaay late, sorry guys. Thanks for all your reviews. I'm trying to accept all of your reccomendations, but I just needed to wake Lovino up soon. I don't have a whole lot more planned, it may wrap up around 40k. I'm trying my hardest. Expect an EstLat chapter, too. I've got too many ideas for them that can't go to waste.

Oh yes! I also did some doodling for this story, so if you're interested in seeing my art please visit: rijito(ddot)deviantart(ddot)com(slash)art(slash)hetalia-dump-358646160

* * *

Ludwig's socked feet shuffled back and forth across his carpet. He paced up and down his room, trying to figure out what had _changed_. He'd just come back from Feliciano's house, where he'd had the most amazing and most confusing moment of his entire life. He wasn't sure if the whole thing was a dream, or if he was just in a lucid state of bliss. He'd gone to Feliciano's house that Monday afternoon, on the windy, blustery street. He rang the doorbell, and a tired Feliciano had answered the door. Then… he wasn't sure what had happened next exactly anymore, his thoughts jumbling together as he just envisioned it; He'd kissed Feliciano again. No, Feliciano had kissed _him._ It was different.

All he knew was soon they were sitting on that ugly floral couch again on the Pepto-Bismol carpet, now looking at each other in a different way. As he looked at the red-head, he saw the length of his eyelashes, the flecks of light reflected in his amber eyes, the tiny freckles that dotted his olive skin, the sharpness of his collarbone. And, if he'd been able to read Feliciano's mind, he'd know similar things were dawning on Feliciano as well.

They'd ended up crashing together once again, this time their teeth clacking together painfully. They both cringed for a moment, then the kiss grew more open-mouthed; however, they weren't kissing obscenely. It was sweet and syrupy and felt heavy with emotion. Feliciano had gripped his sleeves and he'd wrapped his arms around the kid, pulling him closer. The kiss had broken when they ran out of breath, panting and huffing. Feliciano rested his chin in the crook of Ludwig's neck.

Ludwig had swallowed, his mind racing. "F-Feliciano." He'd stuttered.

"Mmm."

"Does this mean we're— you know."

"Together?" The red-head had pulled back from his embrace and looked him in the eyes. "If you… want it to, ve?" He suddenly looked apprehensive. Ludwig's clear blue eyes looked him over.

"I do. Please." Ludwig had moved in for another kiss.

Eventually they'd stopped, their lips red and chapped, and it was pretty obvious what they'd been doing. Ludwig had leaned back, the look of Feliciano still amazing him. He'd gotten what he wanted; he'd fallen in love with this wonderful person, and they'd fallen for him in return.

They'd ended up talking for a while, on the subject of Lovino; he was still in the hospital, and the bills were still being paid, and the insurance was still covering him, and all seemed well except the fact that he needed to get better. Feliciano shared his secret fear that Lovino would never wake up, and that he and his grandfather would lose their house before he graduated and got a decent job. Feliciano wasn't good at many things, preferring to run rather than fight, along with some clumsiness, so he wanted to get a career in art. He explained that he loved to paint and draw. His grandfather—years ago, now— had taught Feliciano how to draw. He just never had the time; with all the homework they got as high schoolers, he hadn't completed a picture since early in his sophomore year. Perhaps he was out of practice.

He told Ludwig that he liked especially to draw in charcoal or pastel; figures were his favorite. He'd once taken a class in middle school when he'd been required to draw figures and simply loved it. He didn't think his art career was going anywhere right now, however, because of all this stress he didn't think he could draw at all. Ludwig comforted him, telling him he'd like to see him draw figures some time.

Feliciano went on to explain how their grandfather had, in a way, picked favorites between he and his twin. He spent time with Feliciano when he was a kid, and not Lovi. He taught the arts to Feliciano, and not Lovi. He picked up Feliciano, and held him in his arms, kissed his cheeks, held his hand. Lovino hadn't gotten most of these things, simple things their grandfather could have done, but didn't. It was almost blatant neglect, if it weren't for the food he was given and the roof over him.

Lovino now found it necessary to prove himself to everyone; an inferiority complex the size of the sun wired into his brain. Feliciano actually felt awful about it; he didn't ask to be the favorite. He loved his brother, of course, and wanted him to be happy. He never wanted Lovi to be upset with him. But Lovi was anyways, trying to assert his dominance over Feli by bullying him into listening to what he said. But sometimes, on quiet summer nights, you could hear Lovi breaking down in his room, trying to understand why Feli was the _favorite_ in the first place.

Ludwig had stayed for a while longer, listening to Feliciano talk about his brother. The red-head's voice had a ring in it that sounded pleasurable to his ears; it wasn't annoyingly high, but it wasn't an average voice either.

Feliciano had worried about him getting home; he hadn't driven his car here, so he'd have to walk home. Ludwig put these concerns to rest, however, when he told Feliciano that it really wasn't any trouble. He had a proper jacket, and it was only starting to get cold out. He already knew his way home from when he'd run home the previous Tuesday; Ludwig cringed when reminded of the chaotic visit.

Feliciano had ended up walking him to the end of the street at least, and had pulled him into a tight embrace when they'd reached the corner. "I love you." He'd mumbled into Ludwig's jacket. Ludwig could barely hear him, but it was all the same. He hugged Feliciano back, resting his chin on Feli's head. with a strained look on his face. How was it possible to love someone like this, if you'd only met them a week ago?

Now he was pacing his room, perplexed at the revelation that he now had a _boyfriend._ He'd only realized maybe, two or three days ago, that he'd had a crush on the kid, and he couldn't contain himself even a little when it came down to it; he'd kissed the red-head first, and had almost screwed everything up. The whole situation had been a tight-rope. In the end, though, it had been an overwhelming success. In the end, he'd gained something important in his heart.

He wondered why he wanted to kiss Feliciano so badly, but he did.

* * *

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo sat in a hospital room where he'd spent nearly the last four days. It was Wednesday now, the week flying by unfairly quickly. Antonio had even skipped school on Tuesday; it wasn't like there was a whole lot for him to do that day as a senior. The whole place smelled of Antiseptic, something his clothes were starting to smell like, and he didn't like that a single bit.

He was there because his best friend (self-pronounced, since the mentioned party would never advocate that himself) had been struck by a car. His crush, in fact.

The brown haired boy who lay on the hospital bed was still hooked up to a heart monitor and one IV; it pumped his blood with vitamin since he wasn't conscious to eat. His face still lacked enough color, and his thin frame looked like wire beneath the sheets.

His greasy hair was wavy splayed across the white pillowcase, curling up in a place where a hair stuck out wantonly around the bandages wrapping his head. His eyes were clamped shut in a fitful and strange unconsciousness, where he'd shifted in pain, perhaps, many times over the last few days. He wore a light blue hospital gown, one he'd worn since it was clear he would need a room to stay overnight. He had olive skin like his brother, but more dark and plentiful freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks. He had dark circles under his eyes that shined a purple-ish color that looked sickly. He clearly wasn't getting enough sleep before the accident.

Lovino seemed to be getting less and less attentive to caring for himself, his personal hygiene suffering, and his diet slipping into something consisting of potato chips and instant ramen. You couldn't call it healthy for anyone. Antonio hated when he got like this; his lips were always worried until they bled, and he picked at his fingernails until they bled too. Antonio examined Lovi's hands; his cuticles were indeed scratched up.

Great, another thing he'd have to yell at Lovi about. He'd approach it carefully, of course, as you had to do with all things around Lovino. There was no telling what the kid could explode on. But Antonio seemed to love him even more for that, endearing qualities surfacing amongst things like that. He needed to get it into Lovino's head that he deserved the best he could get; he deserved love like any other person, even his brother.

He was well aware of the situation with their grandfather; He'd known Lovi for about a year now. He'd once been told by a crying Lovino that he needed to be better than Feliciano because he needed to prove to his grandfather his worth. Antonio had tried to convince him that he didn't need to do that, but of course, the stubborn Lovino didn't believe him.

Antonio had been to the hospital every day for as long as they'd allow since the accident. He'd had nothing better to do, and no one more important than Lovi to visit. He wanted to be there when he woke up, too. He needed to apologize for getting Lovi into this mess in the first place. Call him determined, but he was at a near obsession with getting Lovino better. He'd watched the purple-yellow bruises start to fade slowly from Lovino's arms; they'd become blobs of bluish-tinted skin. He'd waited for the scrapes to close, for the blood to stop flowing. He'd barely needed the bandages now, just keeping them there to keep the scabs from re-opening.

Over all, Lovino looked more _alive_ than he had that Saturday; _although he shouldn't be there at all,_ thought Antonio.

He was sitting by the side of the bed, looking out the window now. He watched as the sun sank, the day had moved on. The sky was just starting to get a gradient look about it; dark blues tinged the corners and the edges around the trees and buildings. Everything outside looked paler than it had throughout the day. Antonio sat back, watching the heart monitor beep slowly; probably a bit slower than it _should have_, but it was okay. At least there was a pulse, right? The green line on the machine spiked every second or two, making a very quiet sound in the room. Lovino shifted on the bed. Antonio stayed, however, his leg starting to fall asleep. He tapped it to wake it up again, starting a funny rhythm.

All at once, the heart monitor sped up. The heartbeats started coming faster, and faster, until it was frenzied; Antonio looked up, confused. He grew panicked as Lovino shifted on the bed again. The white sheets rustled and Lovino's face had changed; the muscles were no longer slack as he held some color in his freckled cheeks.

Antonio suddenly grew worried; maybe his condition was getting worse. He had no idea how skull fractures worked, maybe it was worse than they thought; maybe it was _fatal_. God, he tried not to think about it. He stood up, placing a hand on the side of Lovino's face. The boy's hand moved—god, now Antonio was getting it.

_He was waking up._

Shaky hands traced the side of Lovino's face. Lovino's brow knit together, and he heart monitor grew more stretched out; the beats seemed healthy again. His eyes opened a little; just a crack. Antonio sat down on the bed next to him, admittedly frightened if Lovino would be alright.

They seemed to hover there, at that moment, for a prolonged period of time. Lovino remained in a semi-conscious daze; his watery eyes were half-open. It felt like hours; the monitor became more and more regulated, the heartbeat was louder, stronger this time. Lovino's face scrunched up, his eyes stayed mostly shut.

With a deep exhale from Lovino, and in turn a deep inhale from Antonio, Lovi opened his watery eyes. They were red and puffy, and not the least bit good-looking. The bandages wrapped around his head were pressing his dark brown hair to his forehead. He looked dazed; not particularly focusing on anything. Deep inhale, deep exhale.

"L-Lovino?" Antonio heard his own voice call the brunette's attention.

The reaction seemed to be delayed. Lovino didn't do anything for a moment. The gradient blue of the sky in the window reflected on the surface of his eyes. Then his vision shifted, over to Antonio, who was hovering over him. They immediately made eye contact; Lovino at first didn't process what he was looking at. His mind felt sluggish. The gears in his head started to turn, his mind slowly—slowly…!

"What the… hell… get off of me." A cracked voice pierced the air. Lovino's breaths hitched, his heart sped, as Antonio pulled his body into a hug. A breathy laugh; Antonio was shaking.

"Lovino! Lovino. You're awake!" He shook still, pulling back, his hands sliding across Lovino's cheeks as if to check that he was real.

Lovino couldn't really respond—after his initial reaction, his mind was still fuzzy. He couldn't remember getting into this room—actually, he couldn't remember becoming unconscious at all. He couldn't remember anything past school on Friday, actually. What day was it?

"Antonio… where are we?" His voice was still weak and quiet. He found himself having much less energy than he anticipated. He grumbled, and winced a bit. "Get… off of me."

Antonio just pulled him to his chest. "Lovino, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry! We went to the coffee shop together—remember? And then there was a drunk driver, and I was gonna get hit so you—" Everything came rushing back to Lovino, all at once. He remembered going into town with Antonio, feeling a little insecure because Antonio was so sure and confident. He felt a little stupid now, looking back on it. He remembered parking in the lot at the bookstore, having to walk across the street to the coffee shop in the cold. He remembered a white car heading straight for them, on the right side; the side Antonio was standing on. He remembered pulling Antonio out of the way and—oh god. Oh god.

He visibly became a little freaked out. "A-Antonio. D-don't be sorry! You're so stupid." God, didn't Antonio understand that Lovino was just looking out for him? "You don't have to make such a… big deal out of it."

"Yes I do! Lovi, you've been unconscious for _four days_! You're hurt, and it's my fault, and _god_ I'm an awful friend."

Wait. Four days? "Where are we?"

"In the hospital! You fractured your skull, a-and broke your legs, and your wrist!" Lovino looked down; One of his legs was entirely encased in a cast, the other just had it up to his knee. His wrist was in a cast as well—this one encased his entire hand and up to his elbow. Just how badly had he broken it?

"G-god Antonio. You're more of an idiot than I thought_. I'm_ more of an idiot that I thought." He brought his clammy left arm up around Antonio's shoulders.

Antonio quieted him. "I'm s-so glad you're awake. Lovino!" Was Antonio… crying?

Lovino just quietly clasped his arm around him. Nurses down the hall were beginning to notice his waking up; there were two women and a man rushing into the room, not before pausing when they saw Antonio wrapping his arms around Lovino's waist, his head in the crook of Lovino's neck. They stood in the doorway for a moment, letting them embrace.

* * *

jESUS what a crappy ending. Gomen, gomen. w/e, pls review.


	13. Chapter 13

Well. It's been a while. I'm working hard lately, trying to get the next chapter out, but to be honest, I don't have enough content for Ludwig and Feli to bridge between here and the ending...

I've also been incredibly busy preparing for an upcoming convention, for which I'm going to be cosplaying N. Italy. I sat at a sewing machine for over nine hours yesterday to get the jacket done... It's really stressful, but now I'm just making excuses! Sorry guys;;; The next chapter or two probably won't have Ludwig and Feli in them, I need to sort a LOT of things out.

* * *

It was a cold Thursday afternoon. The wind whipped through the streets and cut through clothes unless you were wearing enough layers. Ludwig only had his coat with a t-shirt underneath it. He was shivering by the time he got to his door from the bus stop; it had been a terrible walk, however the distance. He punched in the code to the door and let himself inside.

His dad wasn't home, right. Neither was his mom, in fact. She was still on a business trip… somewhere in Europe. He didn't know where it was this time. She left frequently enough that it was a normal occurrence for him not to know. It got to the point where Ludwig didn't really know his mother anymore—she was just a breadwinner for the family. His father on the other hand, was around a decent amount of time. He was a good role model; well-groomed, tall and businesslike, and very intelligent and hard working. He just didn't seem to know how to talk to his son—He'd never played catch with his father as a child, he'd never been read bed-time stories or watched the football games with him. The man just seemed a little apathetic, but Ludwig didn't hold it against him. Perhaps Ludwig was a little apathetic himself.

He realized that he had a bit of a different relationship with his parents than other kids—other kids' parents would promise to love them however their successes, however their accomplishments. Ludwig had grown up in a household where success was nearly mandatory; grades were demanded of him, he was required to learn an instrument, and play a sport. Later in life, however, he found this helped him in many ways; his parents had planned his life so his accomplishments would mount quick enough to be considered great; he could play the piano decently enough, even if he didn't like to, he could play soccer quite well, he was proficient in history, if nothing else; over all, he was a well-rounded kid.

He'd found that recently, however, he'd seemed more distracted than usual. He'd been so worried that Monday about Feliciano that he'd been distracted from his test. He hadn't been able to complete his homework assignments; his concentration had been cut down.

He'd arrived in his math class that Thursday to find out that they were getting their test scores back. He'd immediately felt a pang of fear; he hadn't done well on that test. He was sure of it. He hadn't been sure he'd gotten a single question right—

And there it was. The test scores were in his hand, and he was scanning the list down to himself, gliding his finger down the page…

_21/46_

Dammit. Dammit, dammit! What the hell was wrong with him!? That was less than 50%, even, lower than an E grade. That was worse than he'd ever seen himself do on a test; worse than he'd seen anyone do! That would take his grade in the math class down to a… a C-, or so, perhaps a D+! Which, in turn, would topple his GPA, which is…

Oh goodness, he was fucked. His future was fucked, now that he looked. He shouldn't have looked, this blissful unawareness could have been soothing—could have been like a sweet lie. Saved him… from trying this hard, from falling this hard. From failing this bad.

His GPA was now knocked down to a 2.2. At the quickly approaching semester deadline, that's surely what it would come out to be… God, was he an idiot.

He rushed up to his room, which in the past few days had been more of a stressful place for him than ever, and he'd gone into the adjacent bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked hard. He didn't _look_ like a failing student. He didn't _feel_ like a failing student. He _shouldn't _be a failing student! He tried so hard, he'd given it his all, for his whole life… He felt his future collapsing ahead of him—collages, careers, jobs. It was junior year- the year he was supposed to cut all the bullshit and do his best!

He felt hot tears slipping out of his eyes. He rubbed them away quickly. This was no reason to cry… it was weak to cry; a weakness that he didn't need. However, salty tears just kept coming as he stood, silently. There was no trembling, no noise; he didn't make a show out of it. It was as if he was just standing there, if it weren't for the wet lines tracing down his cheeks. Ludwig stared into the mirror at himself, breaking down from the inside.

He felt like this was Feliciano's fault. Yet, Feliciano was the last person he'd blame for anything. The last person he'd want to hurt about this would be Feliciano_. 'Oh, yes. Even though we just started dating, I'm failing my math class so we need to call it off!'_ Christ, that was dumb.

Ludwig wanted to spend time with Feliciano, of course, but he also needed some time to dedicate to his academic life. Maybe… maybe if he worked hard enough, and got a good grade on his second semester card, he could pull his grades up from a plummeting nose-dive. Maybe with some time sacrificed, he could gain happiness with Feliciano.

He wondered if that would be… even vaguely acceptable. He'd just gotten together with Feli four days prior! They'd only kissed- not even a formal date yet! He'd been to Feliciano's house once more that week, on Wednesday; they'd spent time on the couch in the front room, and moved later up to Feliciano's bedroom. Feliciano had made pasta for them—his cupboards seemed limitlessly stocked with the stuff.

Ludwig would, of course, want to spend time with him. Maybe since it was such a short amount of time, Feliciano wouldn't be sure of the relationship—they hadn't even really spent that much time together (however, if there was anything Ludwig would change, it would be that). Ludwig was probably already not that special, right? Or at least, that's what he thought. Feliciano would get bored with him, and find a girlfriend. Someone who could give him the kind of relationship he needed—not Ludwig.

_Someone better than me._ Ludwig thought. _There will always be someone better than me._

Ludwig watched the mirror, nearly glaring at the pitiful expression looking back at him.

He decided that he didn't need to eat dinner today. He didn't deserve it. He headed to bed.

* * *

It's just about 1000 words when you get down to it. The second half of this chapter is still in the works, though I don't have a lot done. Might get cut out altogether.

My confidence in my writing drops another 2% every time I read this, goodness.


	14. Chapter 14

*WARNING! BULLYING AND SELF-HARM AHEAD! DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU! THIS SHIT'S NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART!*

This chapter has taken me nearly a week to complete, and a week prior to procrastinate on. So, this was started just after spring break ended… It's nearly three times longer than a normal chapter, at just over 6,000 words alone. Seventeen pages, flat out. I'm fairly proud of it.

But, it DOES contain a self-harm scene. I've dealt with self-harm in the past, guys. It's not pretty, or graceful, or something to be admired. I really wanted to write this, however, so I went ahead with it. The rating of this story will now move to an M, since I don't want to have to say this again. Things that I enjoy in literature are not the same things that I condone in real life. Stay safe, keep clean, guys.

(Please, no flaming either. I fairly warned you.)

* * *

His hands shook.

Raivis watched his yellow converse hit the pavement. The dark surface was still wet; it had drizzled rain early in the morning, but by the time noon came it was usually gone. He walked briskly. He might have looked rushed; but in reality, he just walked like that. His hands trembled by his sides; they hadn't stopped shaking for a long time now. For days; for weeks. He was generally just nervous anywhere outside of his own home, or maybe Eduard's house.

He'd spent enough time at Eduard's house lately to be comfortable in the atmosphere there; they'd been in a steady relationship for nearly ten months. He'd met the boy in his freshman year—he and Toris. They'd been a year older than him, but they were still the best friends he could ask for. Ones who listened.

He'd been mostly alone in the freshman class, anyways. As soon as it became common knowledge that he was gay, he'd indeed been ostracized by his peers; hell, even his former friends. He'd been bullied his whole life, whether it was because of his height, or his hair, or his voice, or what TV shows he liked, or his sexuality. It became a mantra; constant flow of society to him. In order for there to be happiness for some people, people like himself had to suffer. And he'd accepted it, as a second nature. Keep to yourself. Don't touch anyone. If you don't bother them, maybe they won't approach you. Maybe they will just keep walking—to find another willing tribute, a different seal under the shark's nose.

It was just turning from afternoon to dusk. The sky was starting to get tinged dark around the corners by the trees; that's how you could tell it was gonna get dark soon. Raivis kept walking at his quick pace, hoping the sun wouldn't get too low before he got home. It was only 6:30; you'd think the sun would stay up longer. However, he wasn't surprised. The days got shorter and shorter as the year went on.

It was only a short distance from Eduard's house to his own; well, relatively short. He'd gotten used to walking where he needed to go; his parents weren't often available to drive him. They liked to save gas money to get to work and back; and besides, it wasn't an insufferable distance between their houses. Raivis didn't want to be a burden to his parents.

He hummed a tune as he walked- a slow one, with a steady beat he'd heard on Toris' i-pod at school the other day. The three of them shared everything—music, homework answers, sometimes even clothes. (Of course, not much of Eduard's clothes fit Raivis, and Toris' was a little small for Eduard, but they still sometimes ended up with the other's sweatshirt or jacket or something).

Raivis turned the final block to his house; into a less developed neighborhood, with less space and no sidewalks. Trees shaded the road—they had all lost their leaves, but they cast strange skeletal shadows into the street as the sun set. He approached his own driveway, and got to the side door. The screen was still up from the summer, but the heavy glass door sat behind it. He pulled them open separately, leaning the screen against his side while he unlocked the glass door.

Entering the house, he was almost relieved at the quiet. His parents weren't yet home from work, and he had no siblings or pets, so he kicked off his shoes and relished in the peacefulness of the house. He knew, however, that this peacefulness couldn't really be a relaxing time for him. He had a lot of work to do.

Raivis was indeed a sophomore. His only friends were Juniors, Eduard and Toris. They were taller than him, and stronger than him (if only a little bit) and they loved him. He had only one other friend, Peter, a freshman. He was a little annoying, but he called Raivis on the phone to talk about his day and he would sit with Raivis on the days he had to sit alone, so he was in fact a good friend.

In the end, his friends being different ages from him was an incredibly frustrating thing; so he'd tried his best to pull up his grades enough to skip a year. It was a crazy goal, indeed, almost fantastically out of the question. But Raivis just kept trying; he was now in four AP classes and one CP class, with A's in every single one except for math. He sported a mediocre B+ in that class, something about which he'd panicked when it first happened but he'd later calmed down about. His GPA was nearly a 4.0, but that meant hours upon hours of work on his shoulders.

It was almost too much to handle. He'd remembered flying off the handle a few times over his grades; not maintaining a perfect 4.0 could have caused him much trouble. But he'd figured out that AP classes balanced out the credit anyways—it was enough to get him to stop worrying. For now, though, he had work to do.

He pulled himself away from the doorway and set down his heavy backpack. Pulling out his math homework, he began to study.

It was about four and a half hours later that he stopped; he'd pulled out his i-pod and started to let himself slip into a mechanical solving of the math problems; it was very easy for him once he'd gotten the hang of it. The only problem was the lessons the teacher supplied; they were so complicated and quick, he had to go home each day and re-teach the lessons to himself, from the text book. He cursed the teacher for being so long-winded and arrogant. No one liked the teacher, anyways. She was just an old bitch, said the slackers.

He realized now that it was incredibly late; he'd sucked up all of his free time when he'd gone to Eduard's house. Well, it was alright. He'd spent some quality time with someone he trusted; a rarer thing than should be. He found it a bit difficult to trust people due to a thing many people dealt with; bullies, what else.

He was in fact disappointed in himself for that fact. He'd always thought that when he was fifteen he'd be stronger; a person to be proud of that declared opinions and openly participated in society. Ah, no. What he was stuck with here was an anxiety disorder and two hands that won't stop shaking. He could mainly, in fact, blame it on one person; Ivan Braginski.

Ivan was a junior, and his most frequent tormentor. He bullied him and his best friends, Toris and Eduard, forcing them to give him money, hitting them, sending them home with bruises and threats. It was only under a threat that he didn't tell anyone, really. He was sure, as well, that he could handle it. Toris took it worse than either of them, most of the time (something he didn't deserve). He hadn't really realized it was bullying in the first place; he'd just dealt with the torment for a while. A little taunting from Ivan occasionally, a punch on the arm that sent him reeling into the lockers. None of it really clicked under the label until Eduard had come along. _You can't just let him do that to you, Raivis. He's just a bully; anyone smaller than him is under his domain._

It was a mindset Raivis found himself unfamiliar with. Normally he'd just try to avoid conflict. Let Ivan do as he pleases—one day he'll give up, right? The more you fight, the more you're giving him what he wants… isn't that worse?

In the end, he just wanted Ivan to leave him alone.

He was, in fact, nervous each day as he went to bed—Each time he laid down his head, it was only preparation for a day of fear and anxieties. His hands never stopped shaking, even now, as he pulled his backpack out again and slipped his math book back into it. He wondered why he shook sometimes, and came to the conclusion that he didn't know. He was like a scared little rabbit, or a frail bird. Only comfortable around a select few people—afraid of the world, it's people, it's society.

He slipped into some sweatpants and walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Glancing into the mirror, he caught sight of golden waves that were getting just a little greasy since he hadn't taken a shower that day. He saw somber eyes on either side of a furrowed brow. His skin was pale and even, excluding the dark bags under his eyes with glossy purplish skin that made him look tired. He pulled out his toothbrush and brushed his teeth near soundlessly, then ran his fingers through his hair. He mentally reminded himself to take a shower tomorrow.

As soon as he'd laid down in his bed, he felt a force pulling him downwards. It was as if his tiredness had contained itself until now, as he unceremoniously flopped down onto the maroon sheets and covered himself with the comforter. He felt the anxiety picking at his sluggish mind, however, as the voice in the back of his head started to tell him that he'd see Ivan again, he'd see him in less than eight hours, less than seven! Hell, it was too late. Far too late to sleep, far too early to rise.

He relished in the softness of the comforter. Ivan could wait, couldn't he? He could wait… along with anxiety, and depression… He just needed to sleep for a while.

He was unconscious only minutes later. The shaking had stopped.

* * *

A loud alarm blared in Raivis' ears, interrupting his dream. He couldn't remember what the dream was about, now awake, but he was sure it was a good one and that he wouldn't want to be woken from it. He didn't want to be woken ever, in fact. He couldn't just sleep all day?

Raivis pushed himself from the mattress in the dark; daylight savings time had kicked in now fully, and it was pitch dark outside. No light came from the curtains as it had in the summer, bathing the room in a peachy light from the color of the blinds. He sat in nondescript darkness, propping himself up from the bed using his forearms.

He forced himself to stand and dress—a dress shirt and a sweater, with some jeans. He pulled some socks on (they may or may not have matched) and headed downstairs. His parents were asleep in their room—that was ok. Raivis didn't blame them. The fact that they hadn't arrived home by the time he was in bed meant that they got home _late_. They needed to sleep anywhere from eight to ten more hours- He'd probably just wake them up when he got home from school.

He grabbed his iPod—fuck, his hands had already started shaking again—and his phone off of the chargers, and he threw them in his pockets and pulled on a coat. He donned his yellow converse- song lyrics written all over them. Shrugging on his heavy backpack, he moved out the door and onto the street. It wasn't far to walk from his house to the bus stop, and for that he was grateful. It meant he'd have to spend less time in the damp, foggy morning. A light fog clouded the whole street every morning, especially in the fall and winter.

The bus arrived only a few minutes after he'd gotten there; he boarded and headed to the seat he always sat in. Popping in his ear buds, the ride passed uneventfully.

As soon as he got to school was when the real anxieties began. The kids on the bus were quiet; some of them even slept and most were generally dormant while they travelled in the dark morning. However, seeing other busses arriving, he wondered if he could maybe slip in the doors by the band room; surely it was unlocked, and that hall would be less crowded than the main hallway…

He split off from the flow of students and walked across campus in the cold morning. It was freezing, really. He probably should have just walked down the damned main hallway, but the promise of an empty path to his locker loomed ahead as he- successfully- pulled open the band hall doors and stepped onto the linoleum. He could hear the faint sound of someone playing the piano in the back room—probably Roderich. He played it before school sometimes, and after school on other days. He said he liked the sound of the upright piano in the sound-proofed room; it provided a different feeling than the grand piano in his own home.

Raivis headed up the back staircase and into the math wing—where his locker was, and cringed as he saw maybe sixty people down the stretch to his locker. Oh, come on. You can make it. He walked forward, weaving in and out of tall seniors in the direction of locker 4457. He made it there, and quickly opened the tall locker, shoving his books inside in order to grab what he needed for AP biology. It was nearly frantic as he unzipped his coat, stashed his iPod, and dashed out of the math wing.

He spent the time until class getting out his assignments, then laid his head down on the desk for a minute, until he heard the final bell go off and he was sitting in a classroom full of students; he sat in the back, intentionally. His AP bio teacher started to give an introduction to his lecture; Raivis found his consciousness slipping anyways. There was a packet of notes passed back to him, and he felt a little relieved. The fact there was a pre-written notes packet meant he could _sleep_. He laid his head down on the desk, fully aware that he'd have to teach himself the lecture after school today, or perhaps during his free period.

It didn't take long for his eyes to slip shut, the desk feeling more comfortable than it should, as always.

He woke up at the sound of the ending bell—hell, that lecture had taken the whole hour? He decided to wait for a moment just outside the door before entering the hallway—There were crowds of kids rushing to their next classes, and it was among his worst nightmares to get caught in that kind of rush. A minute later, when the halls were mostly clear, he let himself go. He was now even a bit excited, because Eduard was in his next hour—CP Computer Tech.

The reason he'd ended up taking the class was because he needed some CP credit—to prove he was more than smart enough to skip a grade. However, he was quite clueless on computer tech. That was where Eduard came in. If there was one thing Eduard could do better than everybody else, it was working with computers. He could hack, html code, web design, anything. Eduard already knew half the stuff in the class- so he simply did Raivis' work too. The teacher had even caught on to the fact that they were 'sharing answers' when the assignments ended up the same, so Eduard completed some assignments twice seperately, and read through them to make it seem believable. Raivis had to do virtually nothing except show up, and type some things in class. He was eternally grateful to Eduard for that- He wasn't sure he could handle five advanced classes by himself.

He arrived in the door to see Eduard's blonde head turned away from him—looking at the 2003 model box-type computer in front of him. (Their school was pitifully behind in technology due to budget cuts.) Approaching Eduard, he sat down at the computer next to him.

"Hello Eduard," Raivis spoke for the first time that day.

"Ah, Raivis! How are you doing? How was biology?" Eduard inquired, looking anxiously at Raivis' face.

"Uhm. It was alright. I slept through it, but I-I got the lecture notes." Raivis stuttered, "I'm just so tired today."

Eduard looked like he wanted to hug Raivis, but he didn't. "Raivis, what time did you fall asleep last night? I know it was late when you left my house. Did you still have homework to do after that?!"

Raivis sighed slightly.

"I wouldn't have kept you so long if I'd known! Oh, Raivis… you're losing sleep over me!" Eduard fretted.

"I-It's really alright, Eduard. I wanted to spend time yesterday… we wouldn't really have that much extra time the rest of this week, so I… Well, it was really worth it!" Raivis was a little flustered that Eduard was that concerned over him and his sleeping patterns; not many people in his lifetime had been concerned about his health.

The two of them sat down at their computers and started to work on a coding project due the following week. Eduard let Raivis put down his head after a while, deciding he could handle doing the second project at home the next night. The hour passed without incident—the teacher was sitting across the room working on paperwork while they silently typed. Before they knew it, the bell was ringing and it was time for lunch.

They headed down to the lunchroom, Eduard pulling a brown sack-lunch out of his locker on the way there. He walked hand in hand with Raivis, down to the cafeteria, the two of them sticking close together in the flow of students. The two of them had learned to deal with holding hands and such in public; it was common knowledge amongst the school that they were together. It wasn't so much that they weren't bothered by the kids there; they were. Bullying was rampant in such a school. Some schools dealt with bullying appropriately; theirs _had _no approach. It was simply left to fester amongst hormone-raging cruel teenagers. Not a pleasant idea.

No; the solution lied in them as people. The two of them weren't all that popular or well known around the school, so they seemed to be exceptions to a lot of social rules. They kept out of everybody's way, for the most part, so people didn't bother them as much as an average person.

The problem did however, confront them as soon as they'd stepped foot into the room. They eyed their usual lunch table; Toris was already sitting there, blocked by a tall silhouette. An unsettlingly familiar silhouette; one of a long beige coat, and flaxen hair. Raivis gripped Eduard's wrist and Eduard looked back at him—He could see the blonde gulp. They slowly approached the table, skirting around until they were standing behind Toris, who was sitting on the corner seat of one lunch table. He was visibly tense, eyes wild.

"Ah, hello there Eduard! Raivis!" Ivan was saying as they got closer. "I was just telling Toris… I seem to be a bit short on money today! You should help me out, yes?" He made a face that could not be construed as friendly.

The trio glanced at each other. This was not the first time this had happened. Not the first time, and not the second. This hadn't ended well, either, the previous times. Ivan wasn't talking about lunch money here.

"Raivis?" Ivan's eyes met the shy boy's in the midst of the bustling students around them. In the middle of all this, Yao approached them and watched from a few feet away. The boy's hair was messily parted and pulled back into a black ponytail, where it fell down his back over his red hoodie. He crossed his arms over his chest, a smirk appearing on his face as Raivis started to look distressed.

Apparently, Eduard took the initiative from this. "We d-don't have any money to give you, Ivan! So just please go, so we can eat our lunch in peace."

Ivan looked a little peeved at this. "Ah? I'm fairly sure you do have some money, Eduard! Raivis probably has some, don't you?" Ivan looked back over his shoulder at Yao, smiling in the slightest appreciation of his observance.

Raivis' breath was crushed out of him with that one sentence. "I-I… I think I do. Just, p-please leave us alone." Raivis found himself reaching for his wallet when Eduard stopped him.

"He doesn't have to give you anything!" Eduard stated defiantly, scowling in Ivan's direction as he kept a hand on Raivis' wallet.

"Eduard—Really, i-it's fine. It's okay, to make him leave." He held a long gaze between him and Eduard, communicating through eye contact. Toris still watched nervously as he fidgeted in his seat—He was deathly afraid of Ivan, actually ending up getting beaten up by him once. It had left him bleeding and broken—something he wasn't eager to try again. The school had taken unacceptably minor action against the whole event, but Toris didn't want to get any more involved in the argument with the school board than he was.

Out of the three of them, Toris had no doubt suffered the most physically at Ivan's hands. Eduard and Raivis, however, took more of a psychological blow. Their mindsets were in a most primal fear of the tall boy, Ivan. It was unpleasant, at the very least, and grew into an unavoidable terror when approached.

Raivis pulled out a $20, with a hand he now noticed was shaking worse than ever. He tried to still it, but failed entirely; it was trembling horribly as Ivan snatched the bill from his fingers.

"Ah! Thank you, Raivis! I hope you don't expect it back, really, haha!" Ivan shamelessly laughed.

He hung his head as Ivan swung an arm around Yao's shoulders and walked away with him. Eduard looked at him with a scowl. "Raivis. You shouldn't have given him what he wanted!"

Raivis looked back up at Eduard, nearly having tears in his eyes. He just felt so _helpless_, since he couldn't protect himself from Ivan's attacks when he needed to, and when he '_compromised'_, Eduard would get irritated with him. "What else was I supposed to do, Eduard?!" Raivis exclaimed. "He would have probably hurt you, or more likely Toris!" The brunette flinched next to him.

Eduard seemed upset, but had no more to say, as Feliks had strolled over to the table. "Ah? What's wrong?" He started, resting a hand on Toris' shoulder gently.

Toris explained, and Feliks managed to get the trio calmed down enough to eat their lunch. The rest of the lunch period was fairly peaceful, only being interrupted when Raivis spilled a carton of milk onto their table. However, Toris made a run for some napkins, and all was well.

* * *

After school was when the problems, of course resumed. It's Raivis, standing by his locker, a few other students rushing out of the hall. He was reaching for his books, gathering them quickly in order to rush to the bus.

Normally he got a ride home from Eduard or Toris, but today they both had activities after school. That was okay. Raivis was fine with riding the bus as long as he got a seat to himself; one of the most uncomfortable experiences in his life was when a couple had sat in the seat with him; together. They had started to kiss, and the girl's back was pressed into Raivis' shoulder. He'd nearly panicked, and got off the bus at least ten blocks early because he couldn't take it.

He stood up, slamming the locker closed.

Whirling around in a hurry, he rushed out of the math wing, heading toward the staircase that would lead down into the music wing. Surely he'd make it to the busses now, it was only 2:18. The busses left at 2:21, and he was only a short run from them.

However, on his way down the staircase, fate seemed to hate him. His small form tensed as he saw the exact wrong person scaling the staircase—Ivan. It fucking _had_ to be Ivan. Strange colored eyes glinted as they spotted him coming down the stairs. Raivis was tempted to turn around and run back—but then, he'd miss the bus! Dammit, dammit!

He moved as far to the right as he could, nearly pressing himself to the wall.

Ivan chuckled low in his throat, growling out a "Hello, Raivis~!" as he cut the smaller boy off, stopping him in his tracks. A threatening gaze met his own. It almost seemed… playful. "Have a good time with your pitiable friends today, yes?"

Ivan put a heavy hand on his shoulder. Raivis could feel his shoulders twitch and shake, stress and fear working to the front of his mind. "Leave me alone. Don't touch me." Raivis heard himself say. It felt like someone else was talking, when really, the words had left his own lips.

"Oh? What will you do to me, if I say no, worthless boy?" Ivan's lips twisted into a more threatening smile. "Something like… this?" Suddenly, the hand laid on his shoulder hit the side of his head with a heavy force. His body was jerked to the right, into the glass windows of the staircase.

He hit the window with an _oof_ and fell to the ground. The thump echoed around the stairwell, emphasizing that there was no one around to help him.

"You're so, so worthless, Raivis. Can't you see that all your friends are worthless, too? I doubt they even like you. You're not very likable, Raivis. Such a pity."

Ivan stepped in front of him again, and Raivis' eyes were focused on his heavy brown boots. Oh, oh no. Ooooh no. The leg lifted back as Ivan sent a kick flying into his ribs, and he nearly screamed. Pain exploded in his stomach and chest, and _fuck_, had he broken something?

Ivan chuckled lightly. "Thanks for the money earlier. You won't be seeing it again, but this is alright, yes?"

"Stop! Go awa—" Raivis was cut off as he was sent into a fit of coughing.

"Aah. You won't be telling anyone of this, Raivis. Just go play with your trivial friends, hmm?" Another bout of laughter, and Ivan bounded up the rest of the stairs, leaving Raivis weeping brokenly on the staircase.

* * *

Take a breath. It's alright. Take a breath, you'll live.

That was the chant he'd burned into his mind to ignore the pain of the bruise on his head, and the pain in his ribs. He was walking home, as he'd missed the bus while that… event was occurring.

He finally reached his house; near a mile away. It was now 3:30; it had taken him almost an hour to walk this far. His breaths were shallow and his eyes felt shrunken from the tears.

Stop that. You'll live, just keep walking. You'll live. Take a breath.

Ivan was a constant tormentor; Raivis was aware he'd tormented Toris and Eduard before he'd even gotten into highschool; now that he was a sophomore, long-term bullying had gone unnoticed by the staff. He felt like bullying at other schools was more like gossip and word of mouth; maybe the kids at his school were more confrontational than most. Maybe he was just unlucky. Maybe god hated him.

But what did he care? He was just an 'unlucky' (severely depressed, overworked, hyper-stressed) teenager.

The door to his home was unlocked, thankfully. He hadn't wanted to bend down to pull the key out of his shoe, anyways. Entering the dim home, he kicked off the shoes and dropped his too-heavy backpack. He walked into the kitchen.

Nearly dropping himself into a chair at the counter, he cried openly again.

He shouldn't be doing this. Feeling sorry for himself. What the hell? He knew Toris had it worse than he did, and yet. He shouldn't have to fucking deal with this. In freshman year, he'd drowned it with alcohol, but his parents had found out. They'd since forbade him to touch even the slightest of alcoholic drinks. Dammit, why didn't they understand? Maybe it would be better for him to just drink himself to death, to fall asleep one night and die of alcohol poisoning. Surely it would be better than this—surely, if god hated him.

If god hated him—

He eyed the knife rack.

Standing up on legs that seemed to work on their own, he took the smallest one, and walked into the bathroom. The person in the mirror nearly startled him; it looked nothing like the honors student he had masqueraded a few hours earlier, no. Here he only saw a disgrace, a demon.

Who else could it be, someone that god hates?

It felt like someone else's hand as he sat down on the toilet, his sleeve down to expose the smooth flesh of his wrist. Someone else's hand as the knife shook, resting lightly against the skin before sliding, _slicing—_

It was a few minutes later that Raivis realized what he'd done. His wrist—now slashed to ribbons. The knife clattered to the ground, thrown from his grasp like it burned. Eleven times, he'd torn the blade across his wrist. There was blood, and a lot of it, dripping freely onto the floor. He wadded up toilet paper in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Tears slid down his face, but he hadn't realized it. As far as he knew, his mind was in a surreal state. Had he really just—

After he'd said, so long ago! He'd promised never to drop this low!

He pulled his phone from his pocket. Eduard, Eduard had to help! He pressed the speed dial number '2' and hoped, prayed (how can you pray, boy that god hates?), and cried as the ringer sounded. One—Two, Three—Four! Five!

Eduard's voice came on, over voicemail. Raivis hung up before the sound of the tone.

Take a breath. You'll live. You'll live, just calm down.

He takes small steps to clean himself up. Slowly, he sets the phone on the counter, removing the toilet paper from the lacerations. He winces as the red-blotched skin appears—blood already half-dried onto it. He decides to wet it down, slowly, deliberately pulling some more toilet paper onto it, this time damp. Gently, gently, he cleans the wound, and wraps his arm with white gauze. No red or pink or any variation seeps through, and he thinks that's maybe good.

Eventually, he musters up his courage enough to pick the knife back up. He sets it lightly in the kitchen sink, running the tap over it. The deceptive shine makes it look like nothing ever happened—however, for his own reasons; he elected to leave it in the sink.

He wipes the blood from the floor in the bathroom. He barely remembers bleeding this much, hell, did he really bleed this much?

He tries not to think about it. (_You deserved it, god hates you_, his mind was screaming)

He feels a dull ache in his arm as he finishes, the bathroom looking just as it did before. The whole room, now, felt differently.

He was sitting on his bed, now, as he tried Eduard's number again. One—Two three four, five; Just as Raivis is about to give up hope, the scarily cheerful voice picked up on the other side.

"Raivis!" Eduard said. "What's going on, you never call this early?"

Raivis could hardly breathe. What was he supposed to say _now_? "Eduard." Raivis croaked. The crying, and the pain, and the tears, were all audible in his voice; a cracked, strangled thing. He sounded broken.

Eduard could tell something was wrong now. "Raivis? What's wrong?!"

"Eduard. I… messed up." _God, help me._

(why would god help you, boy who god hates?)

Eduard was in a panic. "I'm coming over. Raivis, are you okay?" He didn't wait for an answer, as the phone clicked off when Raivis heard a car door slam shut.

* * *

Eduard had ran in, not bothering to knock. He'd found Raivis sitting at the kitchen counter—barely holding on to his composure. He had slumped into a chair, his forearms sitting on the surface. His face looked red and puffy—a purple bruise decorated one cheek in a gruesome display.

They'd shared a moment of eye contact, a moment of confusion—before Raivis' voice shook out into the air between them.

"I m-messed up." Raivis' eyes trailed down to his own bandaged wrist, and now Eduard understood; he rushed over to the boy, and as soon as the curly-haired blonde was in his arms, tears rolled out onto his cheeks and Raivis was crying again that day. God, god!

Eduard was crying now, too. "Raivis! Why would you…?!"

"I'm worthless!" Raivis howled. "Ivan said so! He said you didn't even like me, he said I'm t-trivial! He said—" The rest was cut off by such a pained wail, Eduard was shocked.

Eduard held him tight to his chest. "You're not! You're not worthless! Raivis, I love you!" His voice was of disbelief. "It doesn't matter what Ivan says! You're not worthless to me!"

Raivis just sobbed harder into Eduard's chest. Eduard inspects the bandages on his wrist, rubbing circles into the smaller boy's back. "Shhhhh. Raivis, I love you. It's alright."

It's alright.

Eduard is here. It's alright now.

Over the next few weeks, Raivis' cuts closed up. Eduard kept a close eye on them. He would run his fingers, gently, over each one— almost not touching them at all. Raivis watched them, too. They turned from scabs into red, angry lines, into raised bumps. Then they almost weren't there at all.

Over those few weeks, however, things changed a bit. Eduard visited every day. (Without fail.) Toris and Feliks visited nearly as often; not a day went by without some visitor to his house. Peter even came over once; he hadn't heard what had happened, of course, but came anyways when he realized Raivis had been hurting lately. Toris and Feliks knew, however, and they knew to keep quiet. Toris had cried over the phone when Eduard told him—Raivis had lowered his eyes in shame, nearly. Eduard just held him close—It didn't matter. Toris would have nearly the same reaction. His best friends needed comfort, so hugs were in order.

Eduard had been visiting so often and helping with Raivis' studies; the first semester was nearly over, and finals were coming up. The two of them would lay on Raivis' bed, curled into each other with an assignment book on one or both of their laps. They would exchange slow kisses between problems, Eduard assuring Raivis that he was loved, and needed, and not worthless. Even if finals were coming, Raivis wasn't worried. He wasn't as stressed now, since Eduard was helping, and Toris had his math class, so he gave Raivis the answers for that—and oh, things were easier now.

Eduard worked doubly hard on the CP Computer Tech, acing each assignment with flying colors. Raivis' grade point average had been wavering at a 3.9, now boosted to a 4.0.

The shaking had stopped.

* * *

It was a warm day in June that year, when a letter arrived, addressed to Raivis Galante.

Dear Mr. Galante,

It has come to our attention that your GPA in academic studies has remained at a perfect 4.0 all year, despite rigorous courses recommended for students of a class higher than yours. We are aware that a request has been put through before, and we have decided to accept the application to advance a year in your academic studies. As of September 5th this coming fall, you will be moving up to the senior class of next year. Congratulations, Mr. Galante.

* * *

I hope you like it. I've had no time for editing, so please tell me if you see any errors.


	15. Chapter 15

Ok! I'm gonna try to start putting out chapters real quick until the end! It'll end up with something like 20 chapters in total. I'm gonna be wrapping up the GerIta plotline at the end, but there will be two more CanAme chapters and maaaaybe another SuFin one, if you ask for it. I don't know. (Or I could do another LietPol, it just depends on what you ask for.)

The song in here is The Suburbs by Arcade Fire. Please enjoy!

* * *

Ludwig's shoulder twitched as he turned the steering wheel sharply to the right, listening to Feliciano jovially chatter. They were sitting in Ludwig's car, on the way to the restaurant for their first official _date._ God, it felt strange to say that; a _date_, with a boy. Whoever would have thought? It was a Friday night, and they were headed to the only place Ludwig think of that he could afford; Joseph's Coney Island. It was a little place, yeah, kinda like a diner, but he couldn't afford anything more high-scale, and it was just the first date. They were high schoolers. It was a Friday night in November. Who the fuck cares?

He'd told his father he was spending the night with a friend; that wasn't entirely untrue; Feliciano _was _his friend, but more specifically his _boy_friend. Those three little letters were conveniently left out of the conversation with his father. Ludwig was a little wary around the man concerning this topic; he wasn't sure how he'd react to his son being gay. He wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't kick Ludwig out, so he just neglected to say it, hoping his father wouldn't catch on. It wasn't like it was his business in the first place.

Another person who was deemed to be kept out of the loop was Feliciano's currently bed-ridden brother, Lovino. He seemed to not have taken a liking to Ludwig (the understatement being clear here, hopefully), and frankly Ludwig liked his eyes where they sat in his head. He was a bit afraid Lovino would scratch them out if he found out the relationship between the two. He'd spoken to Feliciano about it, for a brief moment, and the two of them together had determined that Feliciano should wait for the right time to tell Lovino—To catch his twin in a good mood, or find the perfect words to make him understand—his blind hatred for the blonde made things a bit more difficult in this case.

Feliciano had come up with the idea that Antonio could possibly be the one to tell Lovino—the senior was the one closest to his dark-haired twin, and maybe the person he yelled at the least. Well, except for some girls—Lovino believed in politeness towards women. He'd taught this to Feliciano as the two of them had grown up, and they'd become some serious lady-killers in their time in middle school and freshman/sophomore years. Junior year the both of them had decided to lay back for a while, not to worry about dating in the least. There were standardized tests to study for, who the fuck has time for pursuing relationships, anyways. In the end, Ludwig brought up the fact that they probably shouldn't put Antonio in the middle of this, anyways, and Feliciano had agreed. He'd have to do it himself. He only needed some time to find the right words.

Ludwig hadn't told Feliciano about his grades, either. He'd sat alone in his room for a long time, even broken some things. He'd smashed a shelf; dented a bookcase. He became more and more stressed out each day that passed, work piling up onto his shoulders even when he hadn't finished the work from the previous day. His free periods were monopolized by math problems and headaches, and his free time was even worse. His shoulders had started to twitch sporadically, indicating just how stressed he really _was_. (A friend of his had told him once that twitching in the muscles of the face or shoulders indicated high levels of stress.) He hoped to god that this bout of homework would end soon. Please let it end soon?

His shoulder twitched again as he pulled his silver car into the parking lot of Joseph's, looking at the fluorescent lights reading '_Josph's Coney Isld'_ where the lights had gone out on some letters. He read it against the dimming sky, taking Feliciano's hand and huddling into his scarf as they walked inside.

"Ah? This place looks really cool, Ludwig! It's like a diner, an old fashioned one!" Feliciano said ecstatically, smiling so _adorably_ up to Ludwig. Their eyes met, and to Ludwig, it wasn't any different than taking Cacie Dotsenroth out on a date in the eighth grade; he felt nervous, and happy, and excited all at the same time, rolling up into a crushing feeling in his stomach.

"I'm… I hope you like it. It's not that fancy, but it should be enough… Right?" Or at least, he hoped. Ludwig didn't want his boyfriend to feel like he was _cheap_, oh dear. That would be the worst case scenario.

Feliciano just smiled and said, "I do like it. It's endearing, ve~?"

This put Ludwig's mind a bit more at rest. At least he hadn't come across as cheap, or lazy. This was really the best he could afford, and besides… the food here was good enough, right?

The restaurant was mostly empty, and they looked around to see one or two more tables full. The sign that said 'please wait to be seated', had been flipped around, and a paper was taped to the back of it. Sharpie writing was scrawled across it in a curly lilt; _please seat yourself._ The two of them shuffled to an empty booth by the window near the road, and they shrugged off their coats into the seat next to them.

They spent a minute chatting before a waitress walked over to them; she looked tired, but happily took their drink orders on her notepad and dropped two menus on the table. Feliciano ordered a Coca-Cola, while Ludwig just asked for some water. The waitress walked away again, hips swaying. Ludwig didn't think he needed to eat a lot tonight, but as an excuse to spend time with Feliciano, he'd give anything.

They looked over the menus, and Feliciano didn't look disgusted, so maybe that was a plus? He still felt like a nervous fluttery teenage girl when it came to these things, while Feliciano had gone on countless dates, almost definitely. The shorter boy was just so _sure _of himself, socializing with such poise that Ludwig nearly felt bad about his own social dispositions.

A few minutes later, the waitress swiftly walked over with their drinks; she set them down on the table, expertly dropping a napkin from between her ring and pinky fingers before setting down the cup. Ludwig appreciated her speed and accuracy as a waitress, and reminded himself to tip her well. He and Feliciano ordered their food; Ludwig ordered a turkey sandwich (something plain, that wouldn't upset his stomach), while Feliciano tried some special dish they had running. Ludwig hadn't paid attention to what it was.

They were left to make small talk once again. Ludwig was at a loss of what to say, and Feliciano seemed to understand, so he filled the silence with a conversation starter. "I think Lovi will be out of the hospital within a day or two. That's what the doctors said, at least."

"Ah. I'm glad. I'm glad he's alright, Feliciano." Ludwig met the amber eyes from across the table. He found it hard to hold the eye contact, as he was nervous and jittery—and probably weak, and his shoulder wouldn't stop twitching. (But now it seemed he was just making excuses!) "He was in a coma for four days though… Are you sure they'll let him out so soon?"

"Well, they said he didn't show any signs of permanent trauma to his head, only some broken bones. They casted them up, so he should be alright now, ve?" Feliciano chimed, sounding incredibly optimistic for the subject at hand.

Ludwig nodded. "That's good. He probably doesn't want to be in the hospital any longer, and I can't say I blame him." Even if Ludwig felt a certain animosity toward the dark-haired twin, he didn't think anyone should have to spend such a long time in the hospital. (He briefly remembered seeing Alfred Jones in the hospital; he wondered why once again).

They conversed for a while longer, until the waitress came, carrying two plates for them. Ludwig got just what he expected; a plain sandwich. He nearly immediately started to eat, the hunger from that day and the previous setting into his stomach. He now regretted not eating dinner.

Feliciano, however, seemed cautious about his meal. Maybe he was picky? Ludwig remotely held his breath while Feliciano cut off the first bite from the food; it was something wrapped in pita bread. He opened his mouth and took the first bite, and then his face scrunched up a bit in distaste. Ludwig nearly collapsed, but Feliciano didn't spit it out, or complain, or even acknowledge the fact he'd just expressed his distaste for the food he'd been given.

Instead, he just smiled at Ludwig. "It's… ah, good!" It was pretty obvious he was lying, but Ludwig appreciated the effort. Really, nobody else would have done anything even remotely as polite as that, so Ludwig was grateful for his boyfriend. Feliciano smiled again, at Ludwig, reassuringly.

Ludwig didn't smile back. He exhaled through his nose, looking incredulously at Feliciano. "You know, you don't have to pretend to like it. It's okay."

Feliciano set down the pita-thing, whatever it was, chuckling lightly to himself. "I guess I'm just really picky, huh? Sorry, Ludwig."

They talked for a long time. It was at least 45 minutes before they got the bill; Ludwig's glass was sweating down onto the white napkin. The restaurant was empty now, except for them. Ludwig insisted on paying for the both of them, in politeness while on a date. Feliciano had come prepared to pay for himself, but Ludwig pressed the issue and he'd given up before even really protesting.

Ludwig gave Feli his scarf, holding a smaller hand in his before heading out the door. Behind them, he heard the waitress whistle quietly; then the door shut, and it was just them alone in the cold.

They climbed back into Ludwig's car; which, like an idiot, he'd forgotten to start the heater before they'd gotten in. He cursed himself for it, putting the vents pointing _inconspicuously_ towards the passenger's side of the car. Feliciano smiled, catching on to him. Feliciano toyed with the radio, suddenly finding a song he liked.

"Ah! Ludwig, have you ever heard it? It's one of my favorites!" Feliciano cried, turning up the radio quite loudly as Ludwig started the car. An intro sounded, music playing through the speakers. He pulled out of the parking lot as the singer started his first words.

_In the suburbs I learned to drive, and you told me we'd never survive._

_Grab your mother's keys, we're leaving._

Feliciano sung along to the words; it was a casual melody, with a lilted heavy beat, but somehow it felt sad.

_You've always been so sure; that one day we'd be fighting in a suburban war._

_Your part of town against mine, I saw you standing on the opposite shore._

_But by the time the first bombs fell we were already bored._

Ludwig was transfixed by Feliciano's voice; it cooled his ears, and mellowed his stress, if only for a second. He drove on silently, the loud radio and Feliciano the only things on his mind. He wondered what band sang the song; he could have sworn he'd heard them before. Perhaps he'd ask Feliciano later, when he wasn't listening to the fantastic sound.

The chorus came on, and Feliciano sang without restraint.

_Sometimes I can't believe it, I'm moving past the feeling._

* * *

As soon as they'd moved inside the door, Feliciano had his lips on Ludwig's, kissing him like he'd had to hold himself back all night; which maybe he had. Ludwig wasn't sure as he slid his arms about the thin boy's hips; swaying into the kiss as his back was pressed against the wall. He took control, letting his hands play with the hem of Feliciano's shirt. They kissed passionately, without restraint.

When the two broke apart, gasping, staring into each other's eyes, Feliciano's laughter rang out. He buried his head into the crook of Ludwig's neck, sighing. "That was… really good!" Feliciano nearly gasped out the words, still out of breath from their kiss. "You're really good."

Ludwig was almost flattered; how many girls had Feliciano kissed? Many, many more than Ludwig had… and yet, kissing a girl probably felt different than _being kissed by_ a girl, and being kissed by a _boy_ was most different as well. Ludwig supposed they were even, then. Both novices.

Feliciano's grandfather was out of the house that night; he would be for two more days. Now, he was in Italy, visiting some relatives for a funeral. A family member that Feliciano didn't know had passed away; some great-great-aunt or something. Their grandfather had hopped on a plane with hardly any warning, and when Feliciano found out that there would be a night alone in the house—he'd immediately called Ludwig. This would be their chance, just to spend time together. Their first date had been tonight, and the prospect of falling asleep in Ludwig's strong arms was more than comforting.

In truth, any and all time spent with Ludwig made Feliciano feel safe and stable. Remembering just two weeks before; such a _long _time ago, Homecoming had been on a Friday; the same day as this day. Today was a Friday, and here he was; sitting in his own kitchen, smiling into his boyfriend's warmth, relishing in the attention he was given. Lovino wasn't home, Grandpa Roma wasn't home. He was just alone with someone who mattered, someone who cared.

Ludwig broke them apart, gently, and Feliciano didn't mind. He was sure Ludwig wouldn't move far. He ended up fiddling with the radio fixed to the bottom of one of the cabinets. It was an old AM/FM radio, only catching faint grainy stations. It was Grandpa Roma's, and he kept it only for the rare instances when soccer is broadcast on the AM; Feliciano liked it when he could pick up faint songs in Italian and sing along.

Ludwig fiddled with it, pushing the FM button and was greeted by some loud static. He rolled the knob between his fingers quickly, rolling it right onto the very channel. An Italian singer's boisterous voice filled the room.

Feliciano hopped up from his seat at the kitchen table. He sang as loud as he pleased to the song; it was one about young lovers being happy in the summer, together. He understood most of the words, only a few words he wasn't able to translate into English. Grabbing Ludwig's hands away from the radio, he pulled him into a spin; they were dancing now, to the happy music from the kitchen radio. Feliciano led the dance here, pulling Ludwig into a nearly comedic dip. They laughed, and smiled, cheerily. Feliciano didn't thing he could be happier in his life.

It was fantastically domestic, something he'd never had since his parents died years ago. It was intimate, contrasting the loneliness he'd been subjected to for so long. It was _perfect_, no matter how much of a fool he felt like, grinning lazily at Ludwig.

Glancing over at the clock, Feliciano turned off the radio. It was nearly 11:00. "We should probably… get to sleep soon." He said this in a faint tone of voice; moderate disappointment audible in his words.

"We… We should." Ludwig agreed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Feliciano took his hand, and Ludwig let the red-head guide him up the stairs, veering to the left and into a room that was most definitely Feliciano's. There was a big bed in the center, covers messily clotted at the foot. There were some stray clothes laying on the floor, some trinkets and books and papers lying around. There was an easel in the corner, by the window. Some dark shapes were painted onto a white canvas; Ludwig couldn't make out what they were in the dark. The walls were painted a coral color; however, nothing else in the room matched it. It was probably to be expected, though.

Feliciano flopped down on the bed, unceremoniously tugging Ludwig with him. Suddenly Ludwig felt shy. He scooted backwards to the headboard, watching as Feliciano turned to him, a happy gleam in his eyes. Feli sprawled out, stretching. Ludwig only tensed up more. He was in a house, alone, in a bed, with his boyfriend, at night. This could hardly be considered appropriate. His shoulders raised and he crossed his arms, bending his knees so he took up less space on the bed.

"Ludwig. It's okay, you're really tense now." Feliciano's voice was smooth.

"A-am I." Ludwig stuttered, watching as the red-head pulled himself up to the pillow, clinging to it.

"Yeah. It's alright here! We're alone, and it's fine~" His voice was quiet as his eyelids drooped slightly. It was obvious he was ready for bed- falling asleep proved no challenge to someone as lazy as he.

Ludwig managed to convince himself to stretch out on the bed, pulling the blanket over his long legs. Almost immediately, he felt arms around his hips, and Feliciano had pulled himself into Ludwig's chest, resting his forehead on Ludwig's collarbone.

A deep sigh was heard; another replied. It didn't matter which sigh was which; they were both asleep almost immediately.

* * *

Screams.

Ludwig wasn't quite sure what they were for, but this was the first time he'd woken to screams in a _long_ time. These were angry, long sounds. They were words. They were right next to him.

Ludwig opened his eyes, briefly disoriented, then jolted as he realized where he was. Feliciano was clinging to his chest, just as he was all night (now he was waking up and coming to the same realization), and there was Lovino, standing over the bed.

He was loosely supported by a single wooden crutch; one leg was in a walking cast, the other was fully bound. A hand on the crutch, the other hanging limply at his side in a heavy brace. His face was contorted in such a snarl that Ludwig wasn't sure who it was at first; however, there was no mistaking it when he barked; _"Feli! WHAT THE FUCK!"_

Feli jolted, hands extending in front of him defensively on reflex. "Lovi! Lovi, why are you home!?"

The sound of someone running up the stairs sort of answered the question; Antonio burst into the room. "Lovino, calm down! What's wrong!?" He turned his head, observing the scene before him. Oh. "Ludwig? Feli!?" Oh, dear. This was certainly a bad outcome.

Lovino screamed again, dropping the wooden crutch in favor of launching himself at Ludwig. "_What the fuck, you bastard! What did you do to my brother!?" _He screamed. Ludwig did nothing but block Lovino's blows; he didn't want to grab his injured wrist, so he couldn't do anything.

Antonio rushed over, wrapping his arms around Lovino's torso and hauling him off of Ludwig. All the while, Lovino kicked at him, screamed profanities, both at him and at his brother. Said red-head had gotten off of Ludwig, climbing out of the bed on the other side.

"Bro! Bro, calm down!" Feliciano said, worriedly. Lovino was struggling to get at Ludwig still, even as Antonio said calming things into his ear.

His voice cracked, face red, breath staggered, Lovino finally calmed down. Antonio now sat on the bed next to Ludwig, ready to jump up if Lovi did anything extreme again. Feliciano sat at the foot of the bed, looking nearly… guilty. "When were you planning on telling me about this, Feliciano!? How far were you gonna let this go!? …How far _did _it go?"

Feli winced at the remarks, fiddling with his hands. "I was just waiting, bro. I'm sorry, okay?"

"You'd better be! And with this asshole, no less—"

Feliciano cut him off. "Shut up! You don't even know him!" His stance had shifted to an aggressive one. The brothers stood at a deadlock for a moment, Lovino still leaning on his crutch.

Lovino turned to the other two; "You two. Leave, we need to talk."

Antonio shook his head. "You two are angry; I'm not leaving you two to come to blows!" Ludwig nodded his agreement; Lovino scoffed.

"Well, make blondie here leave! I'm not gonna talk civil until he's out of my brother's bedroom, got it!?"

Feliciano looked about to protest, but Ludwig waved a hand. "Fine. I'll leave." He stood up, turning to Antonio. His voice lowered, "Don't let him get hurt." The last thing he wanted was more bruised ribs on Feli; he knew what happened last time Lovino kicked him out.

Antonio nodded, and Ludwig shifted his eyes to Lovi, then to Feli, who looked ready to cry. Without another word, he slipped out of the room.

As he climbed into the car and quickly turned on the ignition, the radio was already on. He listened for only a few seconds before recognizing the melody;

_Sometimes I can't believe it, I'm moving past the feeling._

_Sometimes I can't believe it, I'm moving past the feeling and into the night…_

* * *

__fdsfdsfsfs i dont know anymore

im just trying to finish this


	16. Chapter 16

AhahahaHAHA ITS TIME TO PLAY "GUESS WHAT PIGEON'S OTP IS" aka "WHY RAREPAIRS HURT". RusCan forever, motherfuckers. try not 2 cry, k

idk Miguel is Cuba because that's the name I've seen used most

I don't even fuckin know how hospitals work so don't even talk to me about why there are IVs and stuff I do what I want

* * *

Staring out the hospital window had become boring. Watching the cars had become boring. Birds no longer flew past the window. It was cold. It rained.

Matthew thought everything was boring, now. Once you were told exactly when you were going to _die_, not a lot matters anymore. He forced himself to eat the breakfast brought to him every day. On Tuesdays and Fridays he didn't, and the nurses understood. They didn't talk to him much, anymore. They didn't call him cute or giggle when he tried to flirt with them. He didn't really do that much anymore, either. He understood. It must've been incredibly hard to work in a place like this. To watch people wither before your eyes over months, or years. You shouldn't get too attached to the people in the cancer ward, you see. You understand why.

One month had passed since they'd received the news.

His hair had thinned further, his steps had grown shorter and his legs weaker. Matthew tried to tell himself to keep strong. He really couldn't, but he tried at least to do so around his brother. He forced himself to keep smiling around his brother.

Alfred had been tearing himself apart. He'd been coming to the hospital every day, with no exceptions. His enthusiasm was renewed in its intensity, but just behind it laid the denial of a very grave message. He'd refused to believe the message the doctor had delivered that day. He would never say it—but Matthew saw it in his eyes. He _knew;_ he knew that the doctor had been telling the truth. He came to room 4-271 every day with sadness in his eyes, but a smile on his face. He'd bring Matthew gifts—a new game, his stuffed teddy bear. Things that would help get him… distracted. Matthew saw this, and suddenly appreciated his brother a bit more. He always _was_ trying to do his best for Matthew, huh? But Matthew's happiness drained as he watched Alfred grow weary, with thinning hair from not eating enough, dark circles under his eyes from sleepless nights spent crying. Yet he still found the energy to spend each day with Matthew.

Matthew, however, felt trapped. He had always wanted to leave the hospital, but he needed it now more than ever. He begged Alfred to take him out of the hospital—to a park, a Café, to a crowded market. Too much of his life had been spent isolated in a tiny white room that smelled like Antiseptic.

And so, Alfred had.

Matthew had dressed in jeans and a huge sweater, and they'd set his weakening body in a wheelchair. They were worried about him collapsing somewhere. He'd tried to hide the fact that he was getting weaker—he'd felt it even before the doctor's news. But now it was more evident, especially to him. He felt heavy.

They'd gone out to a park in the area; it was just the next town over, but it was far enough away for Matthew. Alfred rolled him down a long path that wound through the grass, a blanket on his lap. "How do you feel out here?" Alfred had asked him.

Matthew had thought about it for a minute. The air felt nice in his lungs, and even though it was cold, he was still happy to be _outside_. "I'm tired." It wasn't false.

"Maybe we should head back then, Mattie?"

"No, I want to stay out here, just for a while longer."

Alfred rolled him down the path, passing trees and bushes and park-benches and Matthew wished it was summer so they could have a picnic or something. A female jogger eyed them as she ran by, and Matthew recognized pity in her eyes. He was doomed to die in January, of all months, and November couldn't drag by any slower.

It was a month and a half later that he decided to shave his head. His long golden hair had been falling out, strand by strand, until it was thin and wispy on his head. He decided it wasn't worth it to look like this anymore—it was time to get rid of it.

He had Alfred do it—he brought an electric shaver in to the hospital, and he sat on the toilet while his brother worked. Matthew could see himself in the mirror, watching Alfred nearly in tears while he shaved off the remaining golden hair. Matthew found himself blinking back tears of his own—but he wouldn't let himself cry yet. Clumps of soft, blonde hair fell to the ground gently. The shaver hummed as Alfred did the back of his head; He took a deep breath. The whole process only took five or six minutes, but the results of the change looked… very evident. Matthew looked very _sick,_ now. His wide eyes that had been so filled with life before were now dull, with dark circles under them. His cheeks had hollowed out, his collarbones were apparent. The blue eyes that had once brimmed with happiness, now empty.

Alfred brought him a hat—his favorite beanie, with the Canadian flag on it. Matthew guessed it was because it was too painful to see him like this—and he couldn't blame Alfred. It was kind of him, even.

At the end of the second month, Matthew decided he was ready to let other people know about his worsening condition. He told Alfred a few people that he could tell; and Alfred looked saddened all over again. He probably didn't want to do it, but he would never deny Matthew something.

The first person to come was Francis. He was like a second older brother to Matthew—the kind that gave advice and help and was there for you. Francis was a precious person to Matthew; so he was chosen to be told first.

Francis' was a meeting of few words. He'd burst in the door like a madman, slamming it open without warning. His eyes were wild and panicked, and sad all at the same time. Matthew looked up immediately from the book he was reading— something action-filled, as he'd requested from Alfred— and it slipped from his hands, dropping onto the floor. Francis was already crying, frozen in the doorway as his eyes scanned over the frail figure under the bed sheets. The shadows cast on Matthew's hollow cheeks made him look emaciated and so incredibly ill. "Francis," Matthew had gasped, and that was all it took.

Francis was over to the bed in a matter of seconds, sitting quickly on the edge and wrapping his arms tightly around the boy. He was shaking, Matthew noted, as he clung to him. Francis still hadn't said anything, but he moved closer and ran shaking hands over Matthew's scalp, where soft blonde locks had previously occupied. Matthew found himself getting emotional, too, and he buried his face into Francis' chest. The elder just pulled him in, smooth, dry hands running over his head and neck and shoulders. Matthew burst into tears, and Francis' resolve broke. They just held each other for a long time, rocking back and forth. Matthew curled into a ball, and Francis pulled him into his lap. Francis was warm, and safe, and smelled nostalgic. It wasn't like the harsh antiseptic smell of the hospital that stung his nose.

They found that few words were needed.

The second person to visit had been Katyusha. It was only a few days after Francis' first visit (he would come a few more times, later), and Matthew was still raw with emotion.

She'd knocked softly on the door to 4-271, and Matthew hadn't known who it was. The nurses usually just came in without knocking, as did Alfred. But when he called for them to come in, he found himself faced with the sorrowful face of his childhood crush.

He remembered spending hours pining over her from his hospital room—god, it hurt to remember—and when he was healthy enough to attend school, from the window between their classrooms. She was a full two years older than him, though, and she'd moved up schools just before he'd gotten _really _sick in fourth grade. She had always been beautiful, and now she was drop dead gorgeous. Her curves could not be rivaled, and she had a sweet face with emotive eyes. She was very tall, filling out perfectly and beautifully. Her hair was a little damp, like she'd rushed to get there.

She'd spotted Matthew and immediately frozen up. She looked horrified—he was so frail and small and looked so very _sick_. Like Matthew had become used to, she cried. She had always been so sensitive, though, so Matthew didn't blame her. She rushed to his bedside, falling to her knees by him. She was so very tall that their eyes nearly met as she kneeled by the low hospital bed. Her manicured hands with small, rounded nails had snatched his, and she'd nearly _howled _in despair.

"M-Matthew! I had not known!" She cried, her accent still thick as ever. She cried, and cried, and held his hand and he reassured her. He felt empty, mechanical, as he did so. He knew he was going to die, and felt like he was more equipped to deal with it than everyone else.

After a while, she'd promised to stay in touch. She promised to text him every day, to ask how he was feeling or if he'd like to go out somewhere together. Matthew genuinely appreciated it, as he still felt trapped in the hospital most of the time. She kissed him on both cheeks, and color sprang into his paled face. She laughed, then, a mirthful sound, through all her tears and the emotion that still hung in the room like a thick curtain.

As he watched her leave, she hesitated slightly in the doorway. There was someone… standing outside. The door was only open a crack, so he couldn't see who it was for a moment. Katyusha said something in a foreign language, and Matthew now understood who she was talking to.

It was her brother. Ivan.

He looked nervous as he came in, biting his lower lip. He glanced around the room, anywhere but at Matthew's face. His boots squeaked on the floor, producing an unfitting sound for the tense atmosphere, and Ivan flinched at it. The tall boy took a few steps from the door, enough to walk around the bed, to the bedside where Katyusha had been crouching a minute earlier. He ran his fingers through his flaxen hair uneasily, obviously not knowing what to say. Matthew looked up at him, and their eyes met.

Ivan exhaled slowly, and sat down on the bed next to Matthew. The mattress springs squeaked softly in protest, but otherwise, the room was quiet. Silently, the two of them regarded each other for a moment. (If Alfred had been there, he would have been boiling with rage. He'd built up an animosity that could not be rivaled with Ivan.) Ivan's gloved hand slowly worked its way from his lap over to Matthew's pale one, grasping it with a gentleness he hadn't known Ivan was capable of. The touch was tentative, hesitant. Matthew smiled a little, twisting his hand around and grasping Ivan's tighter. A smile was twisting its way onto his face, and Ivan took notice.

Ivan's face mirrored his, obviously very happy of Matthew's reaction to his presence. His eyes adopted the misted look of sorrow, though, and he gently pulled Matthew into his chest in a placid embrace. Matthew was nearly shocked at the tenderness of it all—this boy who'd barely noted his presence before was now exchanging him the most basic of intimacies. (Briefly, in the back of his mind, he wondered if it was only pity, or if Ivan had wanted this before his death-sentence.) Only now did he allow tears to come down.

Ivan set a sunflower on the windowsill before he left. Alfred asked about it later, but Matthew told him it was a gift from Katyusha.

Miguel was the last one to come. They all visited multiple times, but Miguel was the final person to hear the news. Originally, Alfred was completely opposed to him knowing; Matthew had fought with him, and Alfred gave in, eventually. From what Matthew was told, the confrontation was short and sweet, but the bruise Alfred was nursing on the side of his face painted a different picture. Matthew reminded himself to thank Alfred later.

Miguel's meeting with him was significantly less emotional than the others. He showed up after school with a pack of cards and two tubs of ice cream—You can probably guess what happened from there. They laughed over their game of Go Fish (Mattie didn't know how to play anything else) and talked like normal friends, and he was thankful. He was so very thankful, because Miguel didn't treat him like he was dying, like he was a fragile little object that would break if you touched it. No, the two of them played cards for a few hours even, before Matthew felt his eyelids falling closed, and he was feeling the weakness again.

He thanked Miguel for the Ice Cream and the wonderful time, but he insisted that he had to sleep now. It was becoming an issue—interfering with things like this, that he would need to stop and take a nap (whether it be a short one or a nine-hour nap).

He could feel it in his bones—He only had one month left. One month, and he'd be gone from this earth. Gone from everything except a grave and some scattered memories. The very thought _scared _him. He'd always been forgettable, and when he was gone, would people forget him forever?

Yet, each day he grew weaker and weaker until he could barely sit up. He was now hooked up to an IV to keep him hydrated and his blood pressure regulated, and he looked very much like a dying child. And it was _scary._ Alfred still came to the hospital, though. Each day after school he would read to Matthew, or talk to him, or even just sit in the hospital room with him for company.

"How are you feeling?" He'd asked one day.

Matthew couldn't really say. "I'm going to die soon, Alfred."

"No you're not. That doctor was a liar... It was this bad in fourth grade, right?" _No, it wasn't._ "You can pull through!"

"Alfred…" Matthew wanted to protest. "Please don't miss me. Find a pretty girl to fall in love with and don't miss me. Find a house… a pet. A hobby," Matthew stifled a raspy laugh, "Just please. Don't miss me."

"Don't talk like tha—"

"But please remember me, Alfred." Matthew looked at his brother through dull blue eyes that didn't shine anymore. "Don't let them forget about me. Please." Alfred started to cry.

Matthew decided to take his nap for the day. One month to go… One month to go.

* * *

you can literally watch my mind deteriorate as you read im so ready for this story to be done


	17. Chapter 17

i did some rlly predictable things in this chapter

it is bad and i should feel bad

updates will probably slow down for a while but im going to try and finish this whole story by mid-may.

i wrote this all in one sitting at like 2 in the goddamn morning so pls dont blame me for typos or shit

* * *

_'—don't know him—' _

_'—he's— no matter what!' _

_'—shut up!'_

Antonio could only catch bits and pieces of what the twins were screaming at each other in Italian, his mind reeling as he tried to think of something to break them up.

Lovino was sitting on the bed, at the moment, since he'd almost fallen over on his crutch. He sat in a tense position, shoulder blades jutting out, looking ready to jump up and strangle someone. Feliciano was standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed over a bare chest, brow furrowed with thin, angry lines. Antonio stood between them, unsteadily.

He didn't know exactly how he'd been roped into this situation, but he knew he hadn't been prepared for it. He'd just been taking Lovino home from the hospital that Saturday morning—something the brunette had been looking forward to all week—when he'd come inside to see a fuming Lovino standing over Feliciano and Ludwig… in bed together.

The situation had only degenerated from there—Ludwig had agreed to leave on grounds that Antonio keep them from fighting. Or rather, keep Lovino from hitting his brother. Antonio had known the twins long enough that the occasional abuse from the elder twin was of his knowledge. He presumed Ludwig had figured it out, as well. It was a nasty truth, and he'd done everything in his power to keep it from continuing.

He'd figured it had stopped—but that was disproved at the moment Feliciano stood from the bed, shirtless, and against his ribs were the mottled purple remains of bruises. He'd done a good job of hiding them.

_"—you can't—stupid!"_

_"Shut the fuck up!"_

Oh, did Antonio know that phrase. He'd heard it spoken many times to him, both in English and Italian by the hotheaded twin. Feliciano retorted with something Antonio had never heard before, and Lovino nearly screamed with anger.

He lifted his crutch, and with a guttural shout, swung it at Feliciano's head. The younger lifted his hands in defense, but Lovino's swing struck him hard right on the temple.

Antonio jumped up immediately, snatching the crutch from Lovino's hands and throwing to the floor. "Stop! Lovino, stop it!" Antonio cried.

Feliciano clutched the side of his head, tears spilling from his eyes. His temple didn't look to be bleeding, but it must've hurt a lot to be struck with such a thing. "L-Lovi! W-what are yo-oou—" He couldn't get anything else out through his frantic bawling.

Lovino growled. "What are _you_, Feliciano? I'm the one to be asking questions!" Anger positively dripped from each word.

Feli only cried harder. Antonio was panicked for a moment, then he grabbed Lovino by the shoulders. He slung one of the boy's arms around his neck and lifted him from the bed. Pulling him up, he opened the door to the room (which Ludwig had shut quietly when he left) and assisted Lovi in hobbling down the hallway. He could still hear Feliciano's rapid breaths and frenzied whines as he tried to calm down.

"Agh, goddammit!" Lovino yelled again. "Feliciano, you fucker!" He added a string of Italian after that, probably more insults.

"Lovino, stop!" Antonio insisted, throwing open the door to the boy's room. Antonio dropped the angry Italian onto the bed, stepping away. "I'm not gonna let you two fight anymore! I don't want anyone to get hurt!" Lovino scowled, but didn't argue. "Calm down, and I'll come in to talk to you again. There's probably a perfectly good reason for this… Don't hurt Feliciano for it!"

With that, Antonio shut the door. He heard a loud sigh and a _god dammit_ in Italian, then he started back down the hall to Feliciano's room.

When he returned, he found Feli slumped against the dresser, breathing hard and working to stop crying. He helped him up, rubbing his arms. "Shhh, Feliciano. Let's go downstairs, we'll make Pasta. I'll talk to Lovino, alright?" Feliciano seemed tongue tied, but nodded his head. The two of them descended the stairs, hearing the sound of a _smash_ from Lovino's room.

Antonio's arm was around Feli's shoulders, and they took each stair together. The second one creaked, and the fourth , and the fifth, and the ninth. Each step they took seemed to brighten Feliciano, make his breathing easier, calm him down. By the time they'd crossed the foyer and entered the small kitchen, he was taking deep breaths through his nose. His inhales only shook a little.

"Come on, put on some water to boil. I'll go talk to Lovino."

He left the lighter haired twin to fumble with pots for a moment, turning back to the stairs. He took two at a time, not wanting to leave either twin alone for long. Oh, why had Ludwig left him with this task? Well, he figured if Ludwig had stayed then things would be even worse. Lovino wouldn't stand Feli and the blonde being in the same room together, anymore.

He opened the door again, only to see Lovino sitting on the bed in an awfully uncomfortable looking position. He heaved with each breath, whipping around to see Antonio standing in the doorway. His expression looked… hurt. Antonio sighed, his stance shifting into a more comfortable one. He stepped away from the door, shutting it behind him. Downstairs they could hear a pot clink against another.

"Lovino… What was this all about? I mean… I know what you saw was inappropriate. I mean, I saw it too. But what do you have against Ludwig?"

Antonio leaned back against the door, hearing Lovi's reply. "He kept asking questions about our parents. And… Feli told him everything, the bastard."

"Is that all? Lovi, you told _me_ about your parents. Feliciano can decide who he trusts."

"But I've known you for such a long time! Feli's only known this guy for… two weeks, or some shit!"

"Is there honestly no other reason?"

Lovino glowered, looking incredulously at the brunette. He heaved a great sigh, then clutched his head in his hands. "I… It's really stupid, alright. It might seem stupid to you, but it's not."

Antonio didn't react for a moment. Lovino was about to tell him something that had clearly been bothering him for a while. He walked across the room tentatively, sitting down next to Lovino. "Tell me."

"It's… It's about this kid I used to know. Ludwig… he looks… really familiar to me." Lovino's hunched shoulders looked really tense. Antonio gently gripped his shoulders, turning him around and starting to massage his shoulder blades. "He looks like… one of Feliciano's friends from when we were kids."

"Who?"

"Gah. He… he moved somewhere far away. A different state." It seemed to Antonio like he didn't want to say a name, so he didn't push him.

Lovino continued. "The thing is, when we were something like eight years old, Feliciano had this friend. They were something like childhood sweethearts, it makes me sick. And they spent a lot of time together, a-and they were close.

"It was a couple years later when he just kinda… left. He gave a couple days' notice, none of which he spent with my brother, and then just… moved. He didn't say why, or if he'd ever come back, or anything. We didn't have cell phones or anything back then, so it was impossible to stay in contact, and after that… Feliciano looked so _sad_ all the time. He was really, really sad. And I was angry. That was around the time… our parents died. And on top of all that, we were really _really_ not in good shape. I remember just… being angry all the time. I blamed it on that kid… that blonde kid…

"But right now, when I look at that bastard Ludwig, all I see in him is that kid that fucking _abandoned_ my brother. I don't want to see him like that anymore… I don't want to be angry anymore. So what if Ludwig abandons Feli, too? What if Feli gets it into his head that everyone's just gonna leave? What kind of brother am I, then?"

His voice was heavy when he finished, and Antonio found his voice catching in his throat. He really had nothing to reply to that, so he just let it sink into his mind for a moment.

"Lovino… I don't think Ludwig is going to abandon Feliciano. In the end, they're…. probably not the same person. It's alright."

"It's not alright! I knew you wouldn't take me seriously."

"Agh. I am taking you seriously! I'm just telling you that even if they are the same person, I think that based off Ludwig's actions, he's not going to abandon Feli."

Lovino took another deep breath. "I guess… you're right. I'm still angry, though. He's got no business to ask these questions, and the audacity it must take for him to… to… _sleep with my brother._ Agh!"

Antonio's face screwed up into one of displeasure. "I'm… Feliciano can make his own choices… I guess. If that's what he wants to do, you can't stop him." He stood up from the bed, taking some steps toward the door.

"Like hell I can't."

"Well, Feliciano and I are going to make some pasta. I'm gonna see if I can calm him down." Lovino pretended he didn't hear him, and flopped down onto his side. He pulled the comforter on his bed over his body.

Antonio made his way back down the stairs, greeted by Feliciano in the kitchen. He'd already put the pasta in the boiling water—Antonio had taken longer than he'd intended—and now he was stirring the contents of the pot with a blank expression on his face.

Antonio patted him on the back, starting up a conversation about school. Something unrelated, that would get Feli's mind off of the argument with Lovi. They talked about art credits, they talked about college and what they planned to do after they got out of that dismal high school. It was only a few minutes later when Feliciano deemed the pasta done. He didn't even need a timer anymore—he made each type of pasta so often he could just rely on his internal timer for guidance. Antonio found this comedic.

Antonio called Lovino down from his room, standing at the bottom of the stairs. Feliciano snatched a bowl of pasta and sat down at the table, on the other side of the kitchen. Lovino came down the stairs slowly, having recovered his crutch. His walking cast made a thump on the stairs as he took them one at a time. His other leg was lifted in the air, wrapped in a permanent red cast that he'd refused to let Antonio sign.

Words were brief as Antonio put some of the food into a bowl for Lovino, setting it at the table so Lovi could move around with the crutch without worrying about carrying the bowl himself. This seemed to put Feliciano off, and he tensed up while he shoveled the food into his mouth.

The kitchen had taken on an air of tension, Antonio noticed.

"L-listen. Feliciano—" Lovino began, but Feliciano cut him off.

"Don't talk to me right now, okay?"

Lovi looked apprehensive. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean the things I said, I was just—"

This time Lovino was cut off as Feliciano struck him across the face. He raised his hand and brutally slapped Lovino's cheek, his head jerking to the side. "You're not sorry!" Feliciano shouted. "You're really not! You _always_ do this, Lovino!" With that, he left the pasta sitting on the table and stormed out of the kitchen. The two heard him bound up the stairs, then the door to his room slammed.

"I… kinda deserved that, didn't I?" said Lovino. Antonio wasn't going to argue.

Eventually, Antonio had to leave. His mother demanded he be home by 3:00 that Saturday afternoon to do chores, and his mother was not the kind of person to slack off on discipline if he failed to do so. He left Lovino with the task of making up with his brother—with specific instructions not to touch him. The one thing Antonio didn't want was more violence between the two. He could already see a bruise forming where Feliciano had struck Lovi—a small one, but certainly a bruise.

He gave Lovi one last parting hug and a wish of good luck before heading to his car.

* * *

It was around 8:00 that evening when anything more significant happened. It was only grandpa Roma, getting home from work, but even something like that can end up being upsetting, can't it?

Feliciano was sitting at the kitchen table clutching a cup of tea—he'd gotten it as a gift from Kiku that week. It was some kind of Asian tea, and he could appreciate that.

Grandpa Roma's car could be heard pulling into the driveway. It was a loud thing, old and junky. It wasn't more than a minute before the side door was pulled open and Grandpa Roma was standing in the kitchen, pulling his boots off. He looked tired, his brown hair and beard slightly graying.

"Feliciano." His voice was gruff.

"Ah. Yes, Grandpa Roma?" Feliciano's voice was steady.

"I've got some news for you and your brother. Call him here."

"I'd… I'd rather you just tell me now, Grandpa. Lovino is probably… asleep." In truth, Lovino was most definitely not asleep. He simply didn't want to speak to his brother yet.

"Whatever. I've got a new position opening at work. It's in Virginia, though. That's a pretty state, right?"

What. What the fuck. No, no no, no no no. This couldn't happen. Surely he'd decline, surely he'd say no. Feli didn't want to move—

"It's got nearly $500 more per month! Just incredible, what you can do today…"

"N-No!" Feliciano suddenly exclaimed. "I don't want to move!"

Grandpa Roma gave him a disbelieving look. "Did I fucking ask you? This is for your own good, and for mine, and for Lovino's too! Are you that selfish?!"

Feliciano looked down into his tea. "N-no sir."

"That's better. I've got to go on a business trip all of this week, though. My plane leaves tomorrow. I was so lucky to get a ticket, huh!? I'm going to Virginia and staying in a hotel while have a couple meetings…"

That meant being alone in this house, for a week, with only Lovino. This day could not get any worse.

* * *

im just going with this u feel me

reviews please the more i get the more i write


	18. Chapter 18

alright. I wrote this one in one sitting, too. wow im on a roll lately… well, you can hardly blame me. i had this chapter planned out in my head since before i'd even drafted the preliminary plotlines. honest, it was one of my favorites to write. i really like sickfics way too much though… haaha suffering

THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER FOR MATTHEW AND ALFRED! I'm not writing any more for them ok bye

* * *

It was storming outside. Early January, the first snowstorm they'd had that winter. Alfred could hear the snow and wind heavily whipping against the side of the hospital.

Alfred had been in the hospital all day—he'd gotten there in the early morning and come to visit his frail brother. Matthew could no longer get up from his bed, could no longer laugh or smile. He had no energy for anything. He seemed too weak to even drink a glass of water. The blonde, now bald, was hooked up to several machines like a heart monitor, an IV to keep him hydrated, a blood pressure monitor. He didn't look sixteen anymore.

Matthew had later asked him to stay late—a strange request. It was usually around 7:00 PM when Alfred left, which was the end of visitor's hours. However, visitor's hours didn't really apply to Alfred anymore, after he'd been to the hospital so many times. He knew each of the nurses and clerks by name, and didn't even have to sign in anymore. He just took the elevator up to the fourth floor, stocked with more action novels, and entered 4-271 unannounced. He sometimes brought candy—on Christmas, he'd gotten Mattie some presents. On new year's, he'd stolen a bottle of champagne from their parents' cellar. No one had known a single thing as the brothers drank freely that night. Every other night, however, he'd left early. Matthew required a lot of sleep, and he didn't want to interfere with that. Alfred wondered if something was wrong.

As they sat in the dark hospital room, the only light from a flashlight Alfred held to a superhero novel, the wind howled outside. The yellow light glinted off of the blinking machines and Alfred's glasses. Alfred read aloud in a cool voice, telling of fantastic heroes conquering evil. It was a rather stereotypical tale, but it was the kind Matthew liked most, so Alfred didn't have any problem with it. He'd always wanted to be a hero, anyways. If he could maybe be a hero to his brother, perhaps things would change. It was now 8:00.

"The hero sprang up from the chair, now freed from his bounds. 'I shall punish thee who persecute innocent bystanders!' he proclaimed, snatching the villain from where he stood. The hero struck him across the face, blood flying from the mouth of the scoundrel!" Alfred read in a cool yet enthusiastic voice. "The hero didn't stop until the villain lay beaten, sure that he would—"

"Alfred." Matthew interrupted in a voice so very faint.

"Matthew?" Alfred sounded concerned.

"I'm… so tired."

"Do you want to stop? I can keep reading until you're asleep if you want. I don't think the nurses will bother me if I spend the night here, I can just sleep in the chair—"

"Alfred." The voice was still barely audible.

"Matthew, what is it? Are you alright?"

"I feel like… tonight's the night. This is… this is it."

A cold feeling rushed through Alfred's stomach. Regret, guilt, fear, dread all tore through him at once, a debilitating panic settling like a film on his mind. "There's no way. You're still strong, Mattie, you're gonna be fine!"

"N-no." Two deep breaths. "I'm… going to die, Alfred. It's alright."

The heart monitor skipped a beat, and Alfred's panic settled in further. Matthew's shoulders relaxed into the bed. Alfred's hand hovered over the call button for the nurses, but bony fingers wrapped gently around his wrist and his eyes met Matthew's. The thin hand felt strangely cold.

"It's okay… just please listen to m-me."

"Mattie, no! You can't die. You can't—"

"Please don't let them forget about me. Everyone always forgot about me… even in death, I'm still going to be forgotten. P-please… don't let them forget…" Matthew's voice was so quiet Alfred had to lean closer to hear the last sentence.

Mattie's chest rose one last time, and fell, and dark eyes slid closed.

Alfred's hand slammed on the button to call the nurses. He pushed it once, twice, three and five times. "Mattie! _Mattie, wake up!_" He could feel hot tears rolling down his face, but he didn't remember shedding them.

It felt like a forever of shaking his brother's shoulders before three nurses rushed in with a crash cart. They pushed him away from the bed, all leaning over Matthew and checking the machines and in such a _frenzy_, and seemed so _panicked, _Alfred panicked too. Two more nurses came in, one holding a box of something and the other with a bag of IV fluid. They pushed him out of the room. "Sir, we're going to have to ask you to leave. The patient has entered a state of emergency—we're doing what we can. Please wait in the hallway, sir!" They seemed frantic as he was. Matthew's body was obscured from him and he was forcibly shoved into the hallway.

"Patient 271 is flat lining! Get me a defibrillator! Hurry up!"

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and this time they spilled freely.

He listened for the sound of the heart monitor—it beat slower than normal; and slower, and slower. Finally, a single tone sounded through the door. It echoed around the entire floor.

That dreaded sound echoed through Alfred's mind for the rest of his life, mixed with the sound of the storm raging outside.

* * *

It was two days later. A Tuesday, and a rather dreary one at that. A foot of snow had fallen that Sunday night, and nobody seemed happy about it.

It wasn't a happy Tuesday for Alfred, either. He stood in his best dress slacks over his brother's casket.

The service had been alright. They talked about how good Matthew had been in his lifetime, and how bright he was, how smart and how brave. Alfred felt angry at that, almost. None of them knew how brave Matthew really was. They'd never spent more than an hour with the kid… how fucking dare they call him bright. He was the only light in Alfred's life… the brightest. How dare they call him brave, when Alfred had been the only one to witness firsthand the bravery of his brother. How dare they say his death was 'tragic' when Alfred was the only one to stay with him, and visit so often, and the only one to be there when Matthew had exhaled his last breath.

He thought about that night all the time, after that. Al thought about Matthew's last words, his last request. 'Don't let them forget about me.' Alfred would make sure that would come true for the rest of his life.

In his hand, Alfred held an envelope. It was thin, containing only a single sheet of paper. There was no name or address on the outside. It had been sealed tightly, without a single wrinkle.

Matthew had written it the previous week. Alfred had asked him what he was writing, and he'd lied and said a letter to Katyusha. But that Saturday, just the day before he died, he'd handed Alfred the envelope with a firm hand. _'Only open this once I'm gone, alright? I love you a lot, Alfred, and I want you to take this. Read it when you need to.'_ Alfred had reassured him he wasn't going to die.

Look where he stood now.

He couldn't bring himself to open the letter yet. The elder brother had become convinced Matthew knew when he was going to die. Why else would he have given him the letter the day before… _flat line._

His memories of that night were suppressed—he tried not to think about it too much. There was no real gain in opening that painful night's record, so he did not. All he knew now was that a body sat in front of him, and it looked too thin to be his brother.

He'd always remembered Matthew as a prankster. As someone to play games with. Hide and seek, tag, football, anything. Roughhousing until the fourth grade, when the hospital had come into play. After that, medical expenses and Matthew's Leukemia always affected the family. If Matt wasn't happy, neither was Alfred. They'd stuck together more in high school, though, and Alfred couldn't help thinking what it would have been like for Matthew to graduate high school. He was only a sophomore…

And now he sat in a casket in front of his brother. Beside Alfred, Francis kneeled on a stool. He prayed for a while, and he cried for a while. Behind him stood Arthur, who took his turn paying respects to Matthew before shedding a few tears. He seemed uncomfortable at the sight of the body, and soon retreated to speak to some other attendees. However, Francis remained by the casket. He eventually began to sob brokenly, and no one blamed him.

Other attendees included Katyusha and her siblings Ivan and Natalia, Miguel, another boy, Gilbert, among others. Each one seemed on varying levels of emotional, ranging from completely stoic to utterly sobbing.

Katyusha was beyond consolation, more upset than anyone had ever seen the overly-emotional girl. Natalia comforted her by rubbing her back, not having been close to Matthew herself. She seemed to be the only person at the funeral not broken up, but she was respectful about it and kept mostly quiet anyways. Ivan came to pay respects once too, and he simply closed his eyes and laid a hand on one of Matthew's stiff ones. Some tears snuck out, but he hid them well, wiping them away with his jacket sleeve. Alfred let Ivan's presence slide, for once, as it was… a formal event… and he shall retain dignity and not disgrace his brother's name.

Miguel was perhaps one of the most emotional goodbyes, second only to Francis. He approached the casket calmly, so calmly, and pulled out an ace of diamonds from his suit jacket. "I did cheat," he said. "Here's the card back. I don't need it anymore." He put the card into one of the pockets in Matthew's suit. He thought no one noticed—but Alfred didn't mind it. If anything, it reminded him of just how human this was.

After most of the people had said their final goodbyes, some started to leave. After a long time, it was just Alfred and his parents left. Francis and Arthur were the last guests to leave, and the two promised to help Alfred keep his head up.

The blonde looked at his brother's face one last time, and watched as the casket was swung shut for the last time.

He held the envelope up, reluctantly.

His fingers fumbled to tear it open.

_Dear Alfred._

_This is probably the last thing I'll ever write. I'll most likely not get the chance to write another one. I feel like the time is close. It's really time for me to leave this earth and explore a new place. This letter is for you and for you only. You mean so much to me, honest, Al. You came every day, even when I was so depressed and you helped me so much. I only have good things to say—and no, it's not your fault. No one was at fault for what happened to me._

_Please don't miss me. I don't want you to be sad anymore. When I'm gone, you'll have no reason to be sad, so please always be happy. Spend some time with Francis and Arthur—get some friends and please don't miss me. All I can ask of you is that you please remember me. I don't want to be "Alfred's dead brother". My name is Matthew. I do not want to be forgotten. _

_I love you so much, Al. That will never change, no matter if I'm dead or alive. Tell everyone I said the same to them; Francis and Katyusha and Miguel. I'm sure they'll miss me, won't they? I'll be watching over you all from wherever people go when they die._

_This was inevitable, Alfred. Thank you for making what little life I had so very… happy._

_Your Loving Brother, Matthew._

There was a date at the bottom, but Alfred's vision was obscured by tears.

Perhaps, by some miracle, this letter could help Alfred recover. Some… miracle.

* * *

thank you and god bless you all for putting up with my sappiness and repetitiveness vnv

please review!


	19. PSA

uh. hey y'all. this is just a little psa. this fic is goin on hiatus for another week or so. (even though its already been a week since last updated...)

i've been steadily declining is mental/physical health again and wow i had a fucking _panic attack_ the other day and its not going okay

im really really sorry, but i dont even know how to end this fic the plot is in tangles and it's all so inconsistent... i cant create. i cant deal with this right now. if you have any ideas of what the ending should be, please pm me because its not going well\

when the real ch 19 is up, i'll delete this. sorry for making you think it updated, but there was no other real way to get this out.

with much love

pigeon/riff


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